


When You Go, Just Know That I Will Remember You

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Afterlife, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, mentions of self-harm and depression, suicide (with no real character death considering the AU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 10:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gerard kills himself, he doesn’t expect to wake up ever again. He, however, does wake up – in a strange place indeed, where he’s forced to face all his fears and past mistakes. </p>
<p>Afterlife AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Go, Just Know That I Will Remember You

Before Gerard passes out, two ideas cross his mind like long lost stars. First; maybe his whole life led up to this moment and it is supposed to end like this, it’s not like he could have done anything with it. Second; if there’s something noble about dying, why in hell is there so much blood?

Yes; the only thing he regrets is the way he did it, he doesn’t regret the act itself. _Take the razor, bury it deep, slit slit slit your wrists open, vertically like cocking your head to the side and staring at the sunset from a different angle to see where’s the beauty in being extraordinary._

So much blood, that’s his only thought. It’s warm, and so red – black, almost – and he realizes he can’t swim. He doesn’t want to. Actually, there’s nothing pretty about it, but the blood is soft and flowing and it’s like a lullaby. He falls asleep like he used to when he was little, but this time, there’s no waking up.

***

When Gerard wakes up, it feels like morning. Sun is fighting its way to shine upon Gerard’s face, and he whines. He rolls onto his side and buries his face in the pillow, breathing in a strange, unfamiliar scent.

That’s when it hits him – he should be dead. With his eyes still closed tightly, he slowly wanders his right hand down his left arm, getting to his wrist. No cuts. Not even scars that have been there for months. The skin on his wrist is smooth, and Gerard frowns. What the hell?

He reluctantly flutters his eyes open – partly still expecting to find himself lying in a pool of blood – and swallows. Firstly, he realizes he’s somewhere he doesn’t. Was his attempt to kill himself just an illusion? Did he actually get drunk and pass out on one of his friends’ bed? But if it was like that, his head would hurt, and he feels perfectly fine. He investigates his wrists again – they’re baby-like. 

It’s weird, so weird; mostly because Gerard can still feel the razor in his sweaty hands, cold and writhing and inhuman. He hasn’t seen his pale forearms for months. Not like this. There are always scratches or scars slowly healing with time – except not really, not for him – but not now. His hands are untouched and he suddenly doesn’t know what to think about it, or how it actually feels.

With his heart beating fast, he sits up and looks around. This is a hotel room, Gerard’s sure now. The sheets are yellow, calming yellow but still drawing his eyes in in an unpleasant way. Walls are painted in ordinary white, which is way more comforting. There’s a picture hanging on the wall, and it’s so ridiculous Gerard forgets about his situation for a moment – there’s a blue deer in the middle, and Gerard can’t help but think that the background is supposed to be an ocean. Seriously, what the fuck?

He notices a mirror on the other side of the room, and also one black and one wooden door. Before he can decide what to do, he’s distracted by what is obviously an old phone ringing.

Confused, Gerard turns his head to follow the sound, and his eyes fall on a nightstand he’d missed before. The phone is black, just like the door, and it looks like the ones he always saw in old movies.

Gerard can hear his blood thumping in his ears; he’s freaking out. He has no idea what’s going on, and with every other ring, he hisses and tries to make the right choice. What if he’s been kidnapped? _What the fuck happened to him, why the fuck isn’t he dead?_ Suddenly, he feels like picking up and screaming his lungs out at anyone that’s trying to reach him. 

He kneels on the bed and moves like this to the nightstand. He sits back on his heels and after a few seconds of hesitating and biting his lip, he grips the phone and picks up. 

He’s silent, waiting. Five seconds of static noise, then click and a strong voice that sounds as if it was right in Gerard’s head. 

“Mr. Gerard Way,” says the voice, and it’s obvious that it’s not a question. “It’s our pleasure to welcome you in our complex. We hope you enjoy your stay. Please expect your guide to pick you up in exactly thirty minutes. Have a nice day!”

The line goes dead. Gerard, who had hoped that maybe the phone call would make some things clear, is even more confused now.

He sits properly, his legs hanging down from the bed, his arms limp by his sides. He stares. _And stares and stares._ Almost as if he hoped it will eventually explain everything. Or that the wall, or maybe the deer from the painting, will talk to him.

He keeps coming back to the night before, carefully reliving every second of it. Yeah. His parents were out of town on some family gathering he’d refused to attend. Mikey was out with his friends. And Gerard was in their bathroom with a razor in his trembling hands. He was determined. And the more he comes back to that memory, the surer he is that he _must have died_. There was no way he would live after he’d lost so much blood.

Yes, he could be in some weird, _weird_ sort of sanatorium, but then there are his wrists, unmarked. How long has he been asleep? Is it possible that he fell into a coma? And now he woke up after weeks, maybe months?

He scans the room with his eyes, looking for a hidden camera that would explain how in the hell they knew he woke up. No success. Surely it’s just hidden well, so he wouldn’t smash it into pieces. He would like to.

However, in the end, his mind is just a ball of chaos. He refuses to believe he’s in a sanatorium, and he also refuses to believe he lived. He’s dead sure he has died. 

Gerard’s startled when there’s a knock coming from the black door. Thirty minutes have passed like nothing; it seems like he didn’t even manage to blink once. He contemplates not opening the door at all, but curiosity takes the lead and pulls him up from bed, dragging him towards the door. He’s not even aware of getting hold of the doorknob and opening it. But just like that, the door’s open now and there’s someone staring at him.

It’s a guy who looks to be around twenty-five, with a bright smile on his face. He has dark hair, full lips and considerably happy eyes. He’s wearing tight black jeans, a white shirt and a black waistcoat. He has a ridiculous tattoo on his forearm – at least Gerard doesn’t like it.

“Hi, Gerard!” the boy chatters cheerfully. “I’m Brendon and I’m your guide. I’m here to show you around, help you with anything you could possibly need any help with, and I shall not be annoyed by it.” 

And Gerard stares. He kind of knows that his jaw must be slacked open, but he can’t really help himself. Thoughts like _Who the fuck are you?_ and _Am I hallucinating?_ cross his mind, and it’s the most possible option he’s thought of so far. Of course he’s fucking hallucinating. 

“I’m at your service. But right now, I need to ask you to follow me. Everyone coming here must see Mr. Wentz, please.” With that, Brendon turns on his heels and gesturing for Gerard to follow him, he starts walking.

Gerard, still in awe and still confused – maybe even more than he’d been before – doesn’t really take time to decide. He follows right away, running out of the room and catching up to Brendon. Only then he realizes he left the door open, but he somehow doubts he’ll be coming back, anyway. Whoever kidnapped him, they’re probably going to kill him now. Good.

“So,” Gerard says after a few seconds of walking, “will you, by any chance, tell me where the fuck I am?”

Brendon hisses and shakes his head, speeding up a little. “I’m an open-minded person, Gerard, but I’d appreciate it if you watched your language around me.”

Which, obviously, doesn’t give Gerard any valuable answer or information, only leaves him weirded out. Gerard tries to remember their way, but it gets too complicated when they turn left or right too many times. It’s like the hall is never-ending and the building is just really fucking huge.

It takes Gerard another minute or so to open his mouth and try again, but he throws up his own stupidity again. “Where the fuck am I?” he asks in a high-pitched voice, and Brendon hisses again. “Shit,” Gerard swears under his breath, “I mean. Where am I, please? And where’s my family?”

Thank God, Brendon doesn’t hiss this time. He just looks around and burns a hole in Gerard’s face with his stare. “You didn’t seem to care much about your family when you killed yourself last night,” he blurts out and tears his gaze away.

Gerard gasps, stopping dead in his tracks. _“What?”_ he breathes out and he can feel his heart racing so fast he fears it might just fall out of his chest. Brendon stops as well. As he sees the panicked expression on Gerard’s face, he bites his lower lip and rushes towards him, grabbing his wrist. Gerard shudders at their connection – it’s cold and it tickles, goddamn, touching is not supposed to tickle. What the fuck? 

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” Brendon cries out apologetically and he mirrors Gerard’s terrified expression. “I shouldn’t have said that! Oh, God! Please, don’t tell anyone! I always say the most stupid things. I can’t believe they haven’t fired me yet!”

And even though it’s really impressive to watch Brendon, who has just been lecturing him about language, losing his shit, Gerard just feels something squeeze inside of him and he peeps, “I am _dead_?” 

Brendon falls quiet right away and looks Gerard up and down. “What do you mean? Of course you’re dead.”

“If I’m dead,” Gerard starts carefully, “why am I here? I mean… When I’m dead… I’m supposed to… be… dead?” His eyes widen at his last word and he immediately shakes off Brendon’s hand, starting to shake uncontrollably. “I don’t know what’s going on. I think. I think I’m having a panic attack. I’m. Where am I?” he asks eventually, tears welling up in his eyes. 

For a second, Brendon doesn’t know what to do, but then he’s wrapping his arms around Gerard awkwardly, tapping him on his back. “Calm down, kid.”

“I’m not a kid, you’re maybe five years older than me,” Gerard murmurs shakily, but doesn’t pull away from the touch. 

Brendon snorts, but doesn’t argue. “Whatever you say. Listen,” he says and ruins the hug by squeezing both Gerard’s shoulders. “This is what happens when you die. You get here. It’s a long process and I’m not the one who’s supposed to tell you everything. Just calm down. Mr. Wentz will tell you everything. This is normal, okay? You’re gonna be okay. Hey,” he winks at Gerard – cheerful again, “at least you achieved what you wanted, right? You’re dead.” And with that, he bumps his shoulder with Gerard’s and starts walking again.

Gerard stares at Brendon’s back for a few seconds before he startles awake from his daydreams. He brushes his face to get all the tears away, and calm again, he follows Brendon.

“So,” Gerard tries again, suddenly feeling his mouth go dry and throat raw. “Would it be dumb if I asked if this was Heaven?” When Brendon shakes his head, clearly amused, Gerard kind of tries to laugh it off, but it’s too late.

“Yes, that would definitely be dumb,” Brendon agrees, “But everyone asks that, so you wouldn’t be the first. By the way, nope, this is not Heaven. Heaven’s not real.”

“What do you mean, Heaven’s not real? Does that mean that there’s only Hell?” Gerard questions and realizes, only five seconds later, that if he’s right, _this_ , this right here is Hell. And Mr. Wentz is… um… Lucifer? Maybe? He feels another knot squeeze in his stomach and he bites his lip. _Think about something else_ , he tells himself as he tries to prevent himself from another panic attack. He’d embarrassed himself bad enough. 

“So ordinary, just like everyone else,” Brendon murmurs to himself, but Gerard catches it anyway and frowns. What now, does Brendon expect him to know everything about this place? “Hell’s not real, either. Or, you know, you could call Earth that, I mean, that’s why you’re here, right? ‘Cause you thought your life was Hell.”

Gerard’s cheeks flush after Brendon’s comment and his look immediately travels down to stare at his moving feet. It takes him another minute, and a lot of talking sense into himself, before he opens his mouth again; it’s obvious Brendon’s not going to tell him anything more. 

“Not Heaven, not Hell… So I guess Purgatory’s not real either? That’s not what this is, right?” Brendon hums in agreement and Gerard lets out a relieved sigh. _Good_. At least he’s not going to get punished. “So… Is this some kind of… um… afterlife?” 

Brendon whistles and gives Gerard an admiring look. “Good! Almost no one gets it that fast. Yup, this is indeed a form of afterlife. But not telling you anything else, Pete’s gonna kill me for telling you so much already,” he giggles and speeds up a bit, almost as if he couldn’t wait to see this Pete himself. Gerard can’t help but feel a bit proud for finally getting something right.

It’s not Brendon’s words that surprise him. It’s ridiculously easy to accept that there is some sort of afterlife – it’s kind of logical and he’d rather believe in this than in kidnapping. 

What surprises him is the fact that he doesn’t mind staying conscious for a little longer. He sort of feels alive, and he doesn’t mind. And he’s terrified.

***

Gerard keeps his mouth shut after that. Brendon is obviously nervous – almost as if he was a total stranger with this situation – and Gerard himself is still kind of freaking out. He tries talking to his heart to make it stop beating so furiously, but with no success.

By the time they somehow get to an elevator, Gerard settles with the option that he must have gone insane. That sounds almost… _normal_.

They get in and Gerard notices (when Brendon presses a button with an impressive crown on it) that not even the elevator is typical. He has to choke back a giggle, because – ridiculous. Everything about this place is freaking ridiculous. More and more ridiculous with every passing second.

Gerard’s surprised when he realizes they’ve started moving upwards – it’s smooth, gentle. He chews on the inner side of his cheek as he shoots Brendon a questioning look and gathers up enough courage to speak – ask – again. 

“Are we, like, alone here?” he squeaks and he can’t help but feel a bit panicky at that thought.

Brendon immediately cheers up and smiles at Gerard; with a smile that – Gerard would swear on that! – clearly says _He talks, yay!_ “Of course not. There are dozens of people like you around here, and dozens of guides and Leaders and – yeah, totally not alone,” he finishes and nods, as if to confirm his own words.

“But if there are people here, why –“

“Why haven’t we met anyone?” Brendon sing-songs, obviously happy to answer any question Gerard could have. “Because it’s morning, and everyone is at their courses. Or with Pete.”

“Courses?” Gerard asks and frowns. What the actual fuck?

“Yeah,” Brendon nods and murmurs. The elevator then gives a weird, beeping sound and the doors open just as smoothly as the whole ride had been. “Come on. Pete will tell you everything.” He grabs Gerard’s wrist just as he did before, and pulls him out of the machine to another hall. The walls are blue – the same shade as the deer on that painting.

“So, Mr. Wentz is… Pete?” Gerard suggests, feeling finally a bit smart for coming to this conclusion on his own. He just hates himself for putting it as a question – he’s pretty sure he’s right, damn, he could have just said it. Then, maybe, he wouldn’t get another amused look from Brendon.

From Brendon, who snorts again and says, “Not for you, kiddo. Not for you.”

***

Pete Wentz is everything but what Gerard had imagined him to be on his way here. The first thing that comes to Gerard’s mind as his eyes fall on him is – Pete Wentz is a man of eyeliner. Two seconds later and he also solves out all the blue around. Pete’s wearing a blue blazer and he’s also got some azure blue – matching with the blazer, of course – in his hair. The man looks crazy.

Somehow, though, just looking at him throws Gerard into his respectful mode. It’s probably the wisdom reflecting in Pete’s eyes – it’s so obvious, and so out of place compared to the rest of Pete’s appearance, but it’s there. Gerard’s alone in Pete’s office – Brendon had said he had to stay outside and wait for him there. He, however, exchanges a look with Pete before he leaves Gerard alone there, and they both smile shyly. Well, that’s weird.

“So, Gerard. Has Brendon been nice to you?” Pete asks before Gerard can say hello, and stretches in his chair, making the springs in it creak. 

Gerard clears his throat and instead of looking directly at Pete, he stares at the nametag that says ‘Pete Wentz, Headmaster a.k.a Equals with Death’.

“Is that a Harry Potter reference?” Gerard asks dumbly, pointing towards the tag with his forefinger. Yeah, he probably sounds like a retarded nerd, but… People tend to say inappropriate things, right? And no, Gerard’s not even going to consider that he’s not human anymore. He might be dead, yeah – in case this is not a fucked up dream – but he’s still human, thank you very much.

“Yes,” Pete answers casually, not even giving a grin. “Now I need you to tell me if you’re okay with your guide.”

And it’s not that Pete sounds annoyed – not at all. Pete’s relaxed, like nothing’s going on, but Gerard can’t help but blush and think, once again, what a failure he is. He can’t even answer a simple question properly. Fuck. 

“Um, yeah,” he mumbles and starts picking at the skin around his thumbnail idly. “I guess.”

Pete huffs out a laugh, “I bet he said something he shouldn’t have. He always does. But don’t be too harsh on him, he’s just a newbie.” Gerard looks up and narrows his eyes in a question. “See, when you’re old enough, you can decide whether you want to fade away, float around Earth or help us. Brendon decided to help us. And I’ll just explain this right away so you don’t have to ask – Brendon’s an old, old soul, and he’s practically retired, because he’ll never live a life again. He works here now – he loves interacting with new people, he just has a rough time getting accustomed to all the rules.”

“Sure,” Gerard says seriously with a nod, totally laughing his ass off internally. Yeah, like he understands all the shit Pete has just spat out. 

“Right, so. Why you’re here.”

“Exactly.”

“You killed yourself,” Pete states, and hello, Captain Obvious. “That’s why you’re here. This is your afterlife. There are different forms of afterlife – for those who die naturally, those whose death are caused by diseases… et cetera, et cetera. This is an afterlife for people who killed themselves or are somehow guilty for their death. You understand everything or do I have to explain something more precisely?”

Gerard stares for a second before he swallows and blinks. “Yeah. I’m good.” But fuck, he isn’t. He so isn’t. He’s in awe and completely overwhelmed and if this is real – and looking at Pete makes him believe that it is, fuck, it probably _really is real_ – it’s crazy. 

Alive, Gerard would imagine dozens of things that could happen after you die, but not this. This is so messed up, and it’s order right in the middle of the biggest chaos he’s ever seen. 

“Okay. We have three buildings here. The main one, in which you are at the moment, is the hotel and offices. The second one, but not smaller at all, is the building you’ll attend your course in – I’ll get to that in a second. The third building is a nice restaurant. You can find everything there; Chinese, fast food, whatever you like. It’s here because I wanted it to be here and it’s completely illegal, but hotel food sucks ass and you have to agree on that with me,” Pete chuckles and winks at Gerard, excited to share this not really a secret. 

“Y-yeah, okay. Three buildings, I-I get it,” Gerard stutters awkwardly when he realizes Pete’s waiting for some kind of permission to go on. 

“The courses,” Pete breathes out and claps his hands. Gerard wonders if Pete’s tired of explaining this to everyone, but it’s obvious that he isn’t – his excitement is almost tangible. “You have to take a course. There will be a Leader, to lead you, of course, and it will approximately take five or six weeks, depending on your progress.”

Gerard tries his best not to make a disgusted noise – if he had wanted to go to school, he wouldn’t have killed himself. School and the people in it was one of the reasons he ran to his razor as if it was a sanctuary. Instead, he just hums and purses his lips.

“Don’t worry,” Pete reassures him, like he can read Gerard’s mind and sees what’s going on in there. “These people here, they’re like you. They wouldn’t make fun of you, just like you wouldn’t make fun of them. Besides,” he says, a small smile finally forming on his lips, “you’ll work alone. You could only talk to others after your morning lessons, and no one will make you do that.”

Gerard frowns anyway and his heart skips a beat as he finally opens his mouth to say what’s been on his mind for a while now. “What’s the point, though?” he whispers and tears his eyes away from Pete’s suddenly concerned face. He’s obviously interested in what Gerard’s about to say.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Gerard starts, then cuts himself off shaking his head. Will it change anything if he explains himself? He doubts that. But, maybe… “I mean, I didn’t want this. I wanted nothing. Peace. Or something like that. I don’t know. This is like, going on with another form of life. I don’t want to put up with that. I don’t want this,” he whines in the end and bites his lip. 

“Gerard,” Pete says calmly and it makes Gerard look up. He wishes he could help it, but he can’t – he looks hopeful, hungry for a better explanation or some confirmation that would make him believe he doesn’t have to be scared of this. 

“I just don’t see the point. Sorry.”

“You don’t understand,” Pete sighs and places both his hands on the table, palms down. “You’re young. Your file says you’re only sixty-three. Of course you can’t see the point yet. “

“But I’m not-“

“Yes, you are. You’re a soul, Gerard, you just carry this body. And believe me or not, sixty-three is really young. Anyway, to your question.” This time, Pete pulls himself closer on the chair and rests his elbows on the wooden table, twining his fingers together. “See, this is the hardest part to explain, because your mind is already full of new information that is difficult to understand. But you asked and therefore I have to try.

“You’re a soul. You come here for a reason – to learn from your mistakes, you could say. Here, we make you think about your life and spend time with yourself, which leads to wisdom. When you realize what you’ve done wrong, we erase your memory and you go back to Earth. Even though you don’t remember your previous life, some of the new wisdom stays with you and the older you get, the wiser you stay. I know it sounds horrible to even think about living again, but once you’re there, you don’t remember how much you wanted to stay dead. Pretty, isn’t it?” 

Only when Pete falls silent does Gerard realize he’s been holding his breath. He exhales and blinks a few times – and he desperately wants to think of something to say, but he just can’t. He’s not him at this moment, he’s just _something._ Something that’s gotten stuck in between and it doesn’t even hurt, he’s numb and everything else fades to grey, blurry at the edges. 

He stares and stares and he’s just arms and legs and nothing, because if he’s a soul, he isn’t. Gerard just doesn’t know. Doesn’t know what to say, what to think. He wants to run, but he knows he can’t, not from here, and so he stays. Trapped, trapped. 

“But what happens when I’m back?” Gerard mutters, running his fingers through his hair. 

“You get what everyone else gets – you get a lifetime,” Pete explains instantly and puts Gerard in an even deeper hole with it. Nope, he definitely can’t deal with this. It sounds like responsibility; it sounds like he failed last time or wasted something that had been given to him. He blinks a few times, just hopelessly trying to understand what he’s supposed to do, what Pete wants him to do, but his mind is blank, blank like summer skies. 

“Let me ask you a question that will bring you some peace,” Pete suggests when he sees Gerard silently panic right in front of him. “Are you still depressed, miserable? Or are those feelings gone and it’s more like waiting to feel something new?”

Gerard would be thankful for any question at this moment if it meant he had something to think about. Something else than souls and afterlives and courses and the insanity that this was. 

However, Pete’s question is complicated and Gerard can tell that the answer will be complicated as well. Because, he doesn’t know. He has to dig deep, try to find the place inside he’d used to hide at, and re-open all his scars. He remembers that soft, little feeling he had back with Brendon – the stupid want to keep going, being okay with this. He wishes he hadn’t felt that.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles at first, then sighs and tries to avoid Pete’s encouraging look. “I don’t know if I’m waiting to feel anything. I don’t know if I want to feel at all. But… it’s empty. The place where I used to hold all the sadness and depression, you know? It feels empty and I’m somewhat… fresh. I don’t know how to explain it.” He falls silent immediately, realizing he has never talked about himself like this, and Pete is a complete stranger. Gerard blushes again and holds his breath in anticipation of Pete’s response. 

“I can’t tell you what that means,” Pete says eventually in an apologetic voice. “You have to figure it out yourself. And your course will help with that.” 

“Can I ask you a question?” Gerard breathes out and Pete nods with a smile. “When I go back. To Earth, I mean. Am I still me? Like, am I still Gerard or am I someone else?” 

Pete huffs out a laugh – more like a giggle – and waves his hand. “Of course you’re still Gerard. You face the same situations, but you deal with them differently. That’s what it’s all about!” he exclaims as if he expected Gerard to get this right away.

“Oh,” Gerard whispers sadly. _You face the same situations._ It sure means he’ll have to face all his enemies again. But does it mean he’ll be tempted by a razor? Will he be able to stay sane this time? And as much as he doesn’t mind staying here in afterlife, he sure as hell doesn’t want to find out what his next life will be like. 

“If you don’t have another question…” Pete says with a quirked eyebrow, and yeah, Gerard might be dumb, but he gets the hint. Pete, however, clears his throat and adds, probably just to be sure, “I’ve got a bunch of teenage suicidals to deal with, if you’d excuse me. We shall talk again when it’s time for you to go.”

In his mind, Gerard curls up into a ball, but on the inside, he just nods with a blank expression on his face. “Sure. Uh, bye, I guess.” He exchanges another look with Pete Wentz, and the moment he gets up, he has to fight the urge to just run the fuck out of this room. 

Gerard really wishes for a few minutes of solitude when he closes the door to Pete’s office. If there’s a God, though, he doesn’t listen to Gerard – Brendon’s still waiting for him.

And, okay, that’s great, because without Brendon, Gerard wouldn’t know how to get back to his room and he would end up sitting on the floor in front of the headmaster’s office. However, Brendon’s happy, excited face is not what Gerard had wanted to see. But it’s not like he can help it, it’s another thing he has to simply put up with. It’s not that Brendon repels him, not at all; Brendon is actually quite nice and Gerard likes him. Just not at this exact moment.

“How did it go?” he asks Gerard and putting his arm around Gerard’s shoulder as if they were best friends, he starts walking again. “I’ll show you around, kiddo.”

***

Gerard is so nervous the next day that he can’t even eat. Brendon takes him to the restaurant Pete had mentioned, and it looks really classy. The food is free – in the real world, it would probably be really expensive.

But Gerard simply can’t enjoy it. He’s about to go to his first morning lesson, and it makes him so jumpy he can hardly see straight. 

“I’m not going,” he announces at half past eight, just when Brendon’s about to finish his omelet and get up to drag Gerard to the right building.

“Come on, don’t be silly,” Brendon mumbles and nudges Gerard in the shoulder. “Come on while I’m asking nicely.” And Gerard snorts at that, because even though he’d spent only a few hours with Brendon the day before, he already knows he’s pretty much harmless. He relaxes a bit, though, and finally gets up. “That’s my boy.”

“I’m not your boy,” Gerard argues playfully and keeps walking by Brendon’s side, trying to look like he actually knows where they’re going.

Brendon tries to distract Gerard as much as he can, and it’s partially working. A small part of Gerard’s mind, though, keeps wandering towards more important questions like, _Who will be my Leader? I won’t be there alone, right?_ And he’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even realize they’ve come to the end of their journey through the second building until Brendon taps his shoulder impatiently. 

“I always feel like a proud mom,” Brendon comments and Gerard lets out a giggle. “Letting my child go. So, don’t worry, seriously. You’ll be fine. Just walk in, find an empty seat, and breathe. Jesus, don’t forget to breathe, okay?”

Gerard gives a lop-sided grin and nods. “Of course, mom,” he says sarcastically, but his face falls just a second later. “You’ll be here when the lessons are over, right? I would be so lost without you.”

“Of course I’ll be here, kiddo. I’m your guide,” Brendon reassures him and smiles. His smile is soft and warm and fuck, Gerard really likes him. It’s so easy to trust Brendon completely; Brendon feels like home, like a place he can run to whenever he needs it. That’s all he’s been searching for his whole life. A friend like Brendon. Gerard almost wants to hug him and thank him for making it easier for Gerard and for helping him understand everything. He decides against it, though, because even if he feels this way, he still isn’t sure if he’s not just another job for Brendon. 

But somehow, something in him makes him believe that he isn’t.

***

Gerard’s Leader is a woman that doesn’t bother with introducing herself. She’s got bright red hair falling down to her waist in gentle curls and she’s wearing something that reminds Gerard of the Victorian era. The corset is tight around her thin waist and the dress falls down to the ground. It’s white and she looks completely stunning in it. Gerard has a serious problem with concentrating on what she’s saying, because even though he’s completely and one hundred percent sure he’s gay, he can’t help but simply like her. He practically can’t tear his gaze away from her lips covered in red lipstick.

“My dear boys and girls,” she says and Gerard finally startles awake. “I’ll go straight to today’s assignment. It’s really hard to work with you, self-destructive flowers of mine, but I’ve been here for a while and I learned my tricks. Thus we won’t start with anything inspirational.”

Gerard snorts and looks around the class. There are around twenty other people there, thirteen girls and nine or ten boys. And they all look amused. They all – including Gerard – wear the same feature on their faces – they gave up and that’s why they’re here.

“I want you to write an essay about something you hate. You spent your previous life hating something, probably yourself, so it should be easy enough. I don’t care if it’s fifty words or five hundred, but take your time to think about it before you decide to write anything down on paper. Words are, in the end, eternal. You have three hours.” With that, she slips behind her table and falls completely silent in a soft, peaceful way.

Gerard doesn’t know what to write. At first, it doesn’t feel off that he’s so empty, but eventually, people around him start writing, the sound of scribbling of their pens filling the room. And then, Gerard feels just wrong. Sick. Like he doesn’t fit; like he’s too much of a failure to find his place between suicidal kids. Everything around him is wrong and fuck, he really wishes he would come up with some stupid idea. He hates himself for not being able to hate anything right now. 

To distract himself, with his mind still painfully blank, he stares at their Leader. He wishes she’d tell them something about her, or say her name. She looks like a Constance, or a Charlotte, or something comparably noble and elegant.

Gerard hypnotizes her as she takes a sip from her teacup, fluttering her eyelashes a bit in appreciation. And that’s when he notices something. As she brings the teacup up to her lips again, the sleeve of her dress falls down a bit, rolls down, and exposes her wrist. It’s small and almost not there, but Gerard still sees it, because it’s so familiar.

He sees a little scar on his Leader’s wrist. It’s almost white, but it’s there. Vertical. It must have been deep, Gerard’s sure of it, because now it’s like a little mountain growing from her skin, glowing in the light. It’s kind of beautiful, and Gerard sub-consciously grabs his left wrist and remembers his pain. And it makes so much sense that she’s their Leader, but it’s so unfair that she could keep her scars and Gerard couldn’t. 

And suddenly, he knows what he hates and starts writing right away, not really thinking first. He’s so lost in himself that he doesn’t notice that the Leader smiles a crooked grin, looking at him. Of course she’s seen him staring. 

Gerard writes almost two pages about his hate. He hates that they took his scars away when he got here, and he says that they were a part of him. They could remind him why he should try and live a better life the next time he has a chance to, but they’re not there. And it hurts. It hurts more than when he’d made them, carved those pictures and words into his skin. 

He’s contented and feels sort of proud of his work when he hands his paper over to his Leader and disappears from the class.

***

The next day, the Leader smiles at him, giving him back his paper. He’s sure they all got As for trying, but there’s a small signature and a note on his paper and when he takes a peak at Gabe’s paper (Gabe’s the guy sitting next to him, as he’d learned the day before), there’s nothing.

Gerard realizes he’s probably the only one whom she’s given her name. Her name is Emilie and Gerard feels a spark of happiness. For the first time in ages, he feels good about himself.

The note his Leader – Emilie – wrote says,

_I’m sorry you lost your scars. Come and have mine anytime you need._

***

“That’s great!” Brendon practically yells when Gerard tells him about the signature – he keeps the note to himself, though. It all makes him feel ridiculously special, because it’s obvious that it doesn’t happen so often that Emilie gives away her name this quickly.

“Thanks,” Gerard says with a small smile and blushes, which makes Brendon aww at him. 

“So, tell me,” Brendon starts with a new wave of excitement in his voice. “Do you still want to be a hermit and hide in your room, or can I show you the library? Or take you to the movies?” he suggests and Gerard sighs. He shrugs his shoulders in resignation, though – and Brendon squeaks. “Finally!”

“What’s so special about this library, anyway?” Gerard asks skeptically, walking by Brendon’s side.

“ _Oh.”_ Gerard’s pretty sure the last time Brendon sounded this happy to talk about something was when he asked him about his favorite food. “The library is not just a library! And the movies are not just movies!”

“What is it, then?” Gerard tries to sound bored to provoke Brendon to explain more, but it’s a hard thing to do since this has caught his attention right away.

“Every book and every movie is about you all,” Brendon whispers all mysteriously, and grins. “I mean… There’s a book about your life and a movie about your life. And about that guy’s life,” Brendon points his fingers towards a tiny boy walking in an opposite direction, “or about that girl’s life,” and this time, he smiles and nods his head towards a girl sitting on the floor, reading a book. A book about _someone’s life._ “You know what I mean?”

Gerard had thought – just three minutes ago – that he’s finally getting used to this whole situation, but he can’t say that now. “What _is_ this world?” he murmurs instead, his eyes wide. He doesn’t know if he should believe in God – but whoever thought of this place and made it real was a fucking genius. He actually can’t wait to get to the library now, and almost as if Brendon could feel it, he speeds up and Gerard enthusiastically follows.

They’re not alone this time; they actually meet new people all the time. Brendon says hi to almost every guide they meet. When he stops to talk about something work related, Gerard and the person under the other guide’s wings smile or stare at each other awkwardly. 

One time, though, he starts talking with a girl who says her name is Lindsey. They talk about music and video games and Gerard’s surprised to see that there’s a girl with the exact same interests, including art. In the end, it’s their guides who have to tear them apart and they reassure each other they would meet at lunch or dinner that night. It’s the first time Gerard’s made a friend in fucking years and it feels awesome. They don’t make it a rule, but they really meet sometimes after their first meeting and they talk about everything. And even though it’s hard to admit it, Gerard kind of falls in love with his afterlife.

The course is inspiring, every smile his Leader gives him is like a kick in the ass from the best muse ever, he’s got Brendon and Lindsey and he’s himself. He smiles a lot, he jokes, he lives even though he’s dead.

***

Something’s wrong, Gerard can tell. It’s his fifth day here and they’re eating breakfast again. And something’s just… off. He considers keeping it to himself, because he doesn’t want to cause any trouble, but he’s too uncomfortable. Brendon would notice sooner or later, anyway.

He puts his buttered roll back on his plate and sighs. It catches Brendon’s attention, of course, and he raises an eyebrow at Gerard. 

“I feel like someone’s sitting on my chest,” Gerard complains and it may sound stupid, but it’s actually the best description he could think of. And it’s very realistic – he in fact really feels like there’s something heavy right above his lungs and it stops him from breathing properly. “It doesn’t hurt, but it’s there and it’s making me nervous.”

It’s really difficult to notice any changes in Brendon’s expression, because he covers his serious face within seconds, but Gerard manages to catch that. He’s sure something’s going on, now that even Brendon acknowledged it.

“What? What is it?” Gerard demands an answer and whines when Brendon shakes his head.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this. But don’t worry, it’ll be gone by afternoon, I can promise you that,” he reassures Gerard and tries to tap the back of Gerard’s hand that’s resting on the table, but Gerard jerks away.

“Come on, Brendon!” he groans, “I won’t tell Pete. Please! Do you want me to have another panic attack?” And he feels a bit bad for saying it, because he knows he wouldn’t have a panic attack from this. Gerard doesn’t know what exactly works – if it was mentioning Pete or reminding Brendon of Gerard’s first day here, but it does its magic. 

“You are the worst person I have ever had to guide,” he says grumpily, but Gerard grins – and so does Brendon, because of course he doesn’t mean that. Then he leans closer, making Gerard think that this is probably really a secret, and whispers, “It’s your funeral.”

“My funeral?” Gerard repeats and narrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Jesus Christ, don’t you want to increase your volume? Someone might have misheard you!” Brendon hisses and Gerard sinks a bit behind the table, biting his lower lip.

“Sorry. So what do you mean?” He keeps his voice quiet this time, even though it’s hard. Gerard hasn’t thought about his funeral, to be honest. He’s just got accustomed to his situation and he kind of forgot about Earth in general. As if it was an unreal place, something that his mind has made up, and the only real thing is this afterlife. He thinks, maybe that’s what made it so easy to get used to everything. But now that Brendon had brought it up, Gerard’s heart speeds up, _races,_ and the unknown force in his chest becomes stronger. 

He almost wants to run away, because for the first time since he’s gotten here, he comes back to his family in his mind. What must have his parents thought when they found Gerard’s dead body? Jesus Christ, what if it was Mikey who found him? Gerard never wanted to hurt Mikey – Mikey was the only one who tried to help him, saw the real Gerard beyond the façade he used to wear. Gerard blinks a few times, realizing there are tears welling up in his eyes. Yes, it hurts; but it hurts even more that even if he realized all this before, he would still use his razor that night. He just couldn’t go on, and he can only hope that Mikey will forgive him.

“Are you sure you want to talk about it?” Brendon asks carefully and Gerard finally moves his look back to Brendon’s face. 

He considers saying no. But then, the feeling like he just has to know is stronger. He can deal with it. He couldn’t deal with his life; he owes dealing with everything else to himself. 

“Yes,” he answers sternly and nods, managing to sound convincing. 

Brendon sighs. “Your funeral is today. On Earth, I mean. What you feel right now, that’s just your family mourning. There are at least twenty people there, maybe more, and they’re all thinking about you. Your heart just lets you know that,” he explains, playing with his napkin, picking at its corners and tearing it. 

Gerard looks down at his hands and shakes his head. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done,” he whispers and he doesn’t know if Brendon’s used to this, to listen to people whine and confess, but he hums gently and it encourages Gerard to continue. “But not really. I know I hurt my family, but I was just too unhappy. I couldn’t… I would lose my mind. I still feel like it was the best thing I could have done, but I’m… I’m still confused. Maybe I could have stayed a little longer and things would work out, and… What do you think?” 

Brendon shrugs his shoulders, and Gerard can’t help but think that he’s got an answer, but he’s not saying it. “I think,” he starts with a small smile, “I think you should spend some time alone today. Do you feel like it or should I wait for you after your lessons?”

Gerard tilts his head to the right side. This is so not what he wanted to hear, be he guesses he must just go with it. However, he likes Brendon’s idea and he nods. “Yeah, I think I’ll wander around the library and stuff. If I need you, you’ll know, right?” 

Brendon grins. “Sure, kiddo. Now eat your breakfast or I’ll do that for you.”

And fuck, if this ever ends and Gerard really has to go back to Earth, he’ll miss Brendon an awful lot.

He kind of ignores Emilie and everyone in class that day. He scribbles down a few sentences about rats and pigeons because that’s their assignment (and he doesn’t know what Emilie’s aiming for, maybe he’s not ready to see that much in everything yet) and he’s happy to leave.

He doesn’t even get lost on his way to the library and that’s most likely the only good thing about today. 

Gerard tries reading a few books, but he’s somehow still too distracted. The strange squeeze in his chest is slowly fading away, but it’s still fresh in his memory and he can’t stop thinking about Mikey. He wishes he could see him again and make it all up to him. It’s probably the first time he wishes he would already be down there again. He promises to himself, sitting in an armchair with a closed book in his lap, that he’ll take care of Mikey this time. And they will have a much better relationship and that he won’t be such a fuck up (he knows he won’t remember this, but he kind of hopes it becomes a great part of his ‘wisdom’ and it will happen anyway). 

After a few more unsuccessful experiments with books, he sighs and leans against a bookshelf. He doesn’t really feel like talking to anyone yet, but he fears being bored. Usually, being bored brings thinking and thinking brings all the worst feelings in the world; and even though he thinks that sadness doesn’t really exist in the afterlife, he still dreads it. 

Then he realizes that he hasn’t been to the movies yet and asking the first librarian he meets where he can find it, he heads that way.

Gerard finds out that movies, just like books, have titles. He’s not really interested in anything they’re playing right now, until he notices the title _‘Halloween Boy’._ He hums and looks at what time they’re playing it. It’s started five minutes ago, but Gerard shrugs and decides to give it a shot anyway – it reminds him of his favorite horror movies and he thought he’d never see those again.

There are about fifteen people in there. Gerard easily finds an empty seat and slips into it. It feels a bit creepy at first, watching someone else’s life and private details, but he comforts himself thinking that he’s not alone there and that he might as well enjoy it. It’s ridiculously easy to get lost in the movie, really, so he doesn’t pay attention to anything else. This is exactly the kind of distraction he’d needed. 

_Halloween Boy_ is, obviously, about a boy. It’s about a boy that was born on Halloween and his name’s Frank. Twenty minutes in and it’s not really interesting, but then Frank’s struggling with a lot and it gets interesting right away. Frank struggles a lot with his sexual orientation. He’s gay, just like Gerard, but he has problems accepting it. Gerard watches Frank date numerous girls, failing in every single relationship and then falling into depression. But that’s not what kills Frank, nope. 

Frank’s in college when he starts doing pills. Lots of pills, and also lots of booze. Gerard’s fascinated, because honestly, he hasn’t even made it to college, even though he was close. And Gerard watches Frank lose himself in all the bad things. He’s drunk almost all the time and they almost kick him out of the University, but he manages to stay. Good for him. He doesn’t appreciate it, though. Not at all.

It’s getting pretty boring again and Gerard’s disgusted – trying not to think that he wasted his life just like Frank did – when something finally happens.

Frank’s at a party. He, of course, gets drunk and passes out on a bed on the second floor. By the time pretty much everyone has passed out or left the house, a fire picks up. Probably from a cigarette stub, Gerard thinks as he watches the fire creep up to the first floor and then to the second, slowly making its way towards the room where Frank’s passed out. Frank doesn’t even wake up to choke on the smoke. He just lays there and then the fire gets him and eats him alive and Gerard’s eyes widen and he shivers. He really wishes he could say that Frank was asking for it, but what if he actually wanted to live? The movie ends there, no music, just lights turning on. 

It was fucking disturbing, Gerard thinks as he gets up and shivering again, walks out of the cinema. Fuck, it was probably worse than any horror flick he ever watched. 

He needs to take a minute, just to think about it, so he leans against the wall just beside the entrance, bangs his head against it as well and closes his eyes, letting out a breath. This is just so fucked up.

Gerard has never really thought that there are different ways of killing self. Well, yeah; razors, pills, ropes, stuff like that. But this guy, Frank, burnt alive and it was his fault, he was responsible for it, he _killed himself._ And that’s bizarre, because… well, it just doesn’t make sense to Gerard, but he knows it’s making him uncomfortable. 

“Hey,” someone utters and there’s no doubt they’re talking to Gerard – the sound of their voice is too close. Gerard opens his eyes immediately and his whole body jerks in surprise. When he sees a face, and connects it to the voice, he gasps. “Saw you in there.”

Gerard’s unresponsive for a moment. What exactly does one say to a person they’d just seen dying up on the screen? He stares at Frank and his mouth is really dry all of a sudden; making his mind a mess of thoughts and _holy shit, Frank’s attractive in real life_ and _what the hell does he expect me to say?_

Frank’s wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, nothing special really, but Gerard still feels stupid for wearing his black pants and a t-shirt of the same color. He must look like a depressed weirdo – which he really was before, but isn’t anymore. The only black thing on Frank is his hair.

“You’re mute?” Frank giggles and circling Gerard, he leans against the wall just beside him. “It’s pretty badass to see your face in a movie,” he continues as if nothing was going on and Gerard swallows. “Not in a good movie, though. I pretty much fucked that up, didn’t I?” 

“Kinda,” Gerard agrees automatically, realizing that it was probably just a rhetorical question when it’s too late to take it back. They both fall silent, and fuck, why does Frank just not leave? It’s probably just seconds, but the silence between them is rather awkward, so it feels more like minutes. Gerard frantically tries to come up with something clever to say, but he ends up blurting out the most stupid thing ever. “Were you angry when you woke up here and found out you were dead?”

And, okay, he should maybe punch himself in the face. How would it make him feel if someone asked him this question? 

Frank doesn’t seem to take it personally, though, as if he understood that it was curiosity talking for Gerard. He giggles again and shakes his head, letting it fall against the wall with a low thump. 

“Oh, man, it was like a dream,” he says and Gerard, watching him from the corner of his eye, sees him bury his hands in his pockets. “I couldn’t believe it. I was so pissed, but I mean, pissed at myself. I totally deserved to die, although I didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t?” Gerard repeats, because this is exactly what he’s been thinking about. “Seemed like you did.” And oh God, he sounds like Brendon did that first day. Just like Brendon. 

“No,” Frank mumbles quietly. “I screwed my life up completely, I know that much. I should have stopped with the booze and the pills, but man, I always thought – just one more party. And, one ecstasy won’t hurt me. And, I wanna have fun, what’s so bad about it? You know? I was really fucking stupid.”

Gerard nods to that, even though Frank probably can’t see it, and they get lost in their own heads again. It’s not so unpleasant, really – so far Gerard’s been forced to talk, but Frank gave him some space to just listen. Gerard’s a good listener – definitely better than a talker. 

“So, how did you end up here?” Frank asks eventually, but before Gerard can stutter out an answer, Frank continues. “No, don’t tell me! How about we meet and go to see your life together? You saw mine, it’s only fair that I see yours now,” he adds and nudges Gerard in the shoulder.

And yeah, Gerard would totally say NO, three thousand times NO, if Frank didn’t add the last sentence. He still doesn’t want it to happen, not even in his dreams, but – yeah, it would only be fair. But still, it makes his heart beat faster with nervousness and fear. Gerard can already tell that his movie is way more disturbing than Frank’s and he’s pretty sure it’s full of private details. Also, _cutting._ He barely told anyone about it, how is he supposed to let Frank – a complete stranger – watch it happen? 

But, no matter what’s going on in his mind, he stutters out, “S-sure,” and he kind of knows that he can’t really back off anymore. Even if he didn’t show up, Frank would still go and watch it. And really, what Gerard is the most scared of is judgment. If Frank will judge him, he’ll probably just die all over again. And he can’t know if Frank won’t do that – they’ve just met, for Christ’s sake. This is gonna be a complete disaster.

“We should look up when your movie is on, then!” Frank exclaims and unglues himself from the wall, rushing towards a giant poster with a time schedule. His cheerfulness reminds Gerard of Brendon – only a bit, but still – and isn’t that what he likes the most about Brendon?

He follows Frank, because his heart has obviously taken over his brain, and stops right behind Frank’s back, leaning over his shoulder to get a closer look.

“Seems like you’re on on Thursday of next week,” Frank mutters casually, swaying on his heels and bumping his back to Gerard’s chest now and then.

“You really, really don’t want to see that,” Gerard tries, taking a step back.

Frank turns around with a sheepish smile on his lips. “I do. I mean, it can be sort of creepy, you know? But whatever death you died, watching it is easier than talking about it. Or would you rather spend minutes and minutes spilling your guts to satisfy my curiosity?” Frank raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to the right side. 

It makes Gerard giggle, and also realize that Frank is right. He has no intentions in telling anyone he cowardly killed himself, thank you very much. He hums in agreement and nods.

“You’re right. And it’s still only Friday, I hope you’ll lose interest by next week,” he laughs nervously and then clears his throat. God, does he really have to be so awkward when he meets someone attractive? Or, well, just someone new in general. Being attractive doesn’t really help, though, and Frank looks damn good. 

Frank snorts and shakes his head. “No way. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Gerard. It’s Gerard,” he mumbles and looks down. This all reminds him of William, and it’s not a pleasant memory. It sends shivers down his spine and if Frank knew him, he would see Gerard’s face fall a little. Not really noticeably, because Gerard is the master of hiding emotions, but for example Brendon would know. But Brendon is… well, he’s Brendon. He just knows. 

“Nice to meet you, Gerard,” Frank says delightfully and reaches out his arm. Gerard takes it and as they shake their hands, Frank rubs his thumb over Gerard’s skin slightly. To be honest, it leaves Gerard gasping internally and he pulls away immediately. What the hell is going on? “So, I suggest we meet before Thursday, because I really need someone to be friendly around.”

Gerard almost spits out something inappropriate, like “I refuse to be your joy-toy, go away” or something similar, but he manages to choke that down. The thing is, he’s actually a bit scared of being friends with someone, bonding over things, getting close. Seeing a random girl two times a week and talking about comics with her, that he can do. But Frank seems to enjoy asking private things, his curiosity is actually radiating off of him and Gerard saw it in his movie as well, and… Gerard’s not used to this kind of stuff. His only friend was always Mikey and that was sort of natural and easy. They were brothers, in the end.

“I don’t know about that,” he manages to say eventually and tries to ignore Frank’s frown.

“I’m too eager, ain’t I?” he complains and stares at his shoes with an extraordinary intensity. “That’s kinda why I felt so good being around drunk people. They were just like me, you know?” He snorts again, looking up with a crooked smirk. 

Gerard sighs and feels a wave of something unfamiliar rushing through his body. It’s probably just an act Frank plays on him to get a ‘yes’, but it definitely works. “Okay, when do you finish your lessons?” 

“Yay! I knew you were the right person for me,” Frank jokes and bounces on his feet. “I finish at eleven, then go to lunch. Meet me at the cafeteria?” he suggests and Gerard narrows his eyes.

“Why the fuck would you eat there? Seriously, the restaurant is much better.” Frank glares at him at that – but doesn’t say a thing, probably so they don’t argue right away – and Gerard shrugs his shoulders. “Okay, okay, whatever. I’ll meet you at the cafeteria, then.” 

“I can’t wait,” Frank beams at Gerard, who nervously smiles back. “Hey, my guide’s here. I’m gonna have to leave,” he says looking over Gerard’s shoulder.

Gerard turns around to see a young – well, young? – woman approaching them with a huge smile on her face. Her hair is black, just like Frank’s, and the first thing Gerard notices about her is her perfect, white skin. Here and there he spots freckles, but they look more than good on her. 

“She’s seven hundred forty-eight years old,” Frank whispers adoringly into Gerard’s ear and he jumps two feet into the air. This really needs to stop. “How old is your guide?”

Gerard frowns and not taking his eyes off of Frank’s guide, he shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never asked him,” he admits, a small smile forming on his lips as Frank’s guide comes closer. Gerard hasn’t really noticed guides before, but they all seem really nice and fresh, and really young. Frank’s guide has practically the same aura as Brendon around her; that kind that makes you trust them with anything.

“Hi there, midget,” she greets Frank with a smirk and he calls her ‘grandma’ in return. Gerard feels like he shouldn’t even be there. “I see you’ve finally met someone who didn’t run away the moment you spoke to them.”

“He might as well run away now that he met you,” Frank snorts and elbows his guide in the side. “Anyways. Gerard, this is Jamia, my wonderful guide. Although she’s more wonderfully annoying. And yeah, J., this is Gerard. Be nice to him.” 

Jamia laughs and ruffles Frank’s hair in a rather motherly way. Frank squeaks, trying to get away from her hand, but with no big of a success. Gerard can’t help but huff out a laugh, feeling a blush creep onto his face right away. Frank is really friendly – he and Jamia sound practically like old friends or family. Brendon’s got it more difficult with Gerard – he can only hope that Brendon doesn’t hate him too much now.

“I should go,” Gerard mumbles and is quite flattered to see a flash of disappointment run through Frank’s face. He gives a small smile, “So how about Monday?”

He’s not even done asking the question and Frank already nods and says, “Yes, absolutely, that would be really great!” 

His excitement or whatever it is makes something in Gerard’s chest squeeze and run electricity through his veins all around his body. He says bye to them, hearing a unified ‘bye’ in return and before his cheeks can turn red away, he turns around and starts walking, heading in an unknown direction. He just thinks of Brendon and he knows he’ll meet him soon.

Before that happens, though, he thinks that this was nice. It was nice – meeting a new person, meeting _Frank_ – Gerard somehow doubts he would be this happy about meeting someone new if it wasn’t Frank. Maybe it won’t be such a disaster. Maybe he’ll talk Frank out of the stupid idea to go see Gerard’s movie and everything will be fine. It can’t be that bad to make friends. It can’t be that bad to think of someone as attractive, even when you’re dead.

***

Before Emilie starts her lesson on Monday, she pours herself a cup of tea. Only then she looks up to stare at her class for a few seconds and says, “Another week, another theme.”

Her voice is stern and it sounds different. Gerard can’t help but think that she’s tired, like maybe something happened during the weekend which exhausted her. He’s not sure if there’s a possibility that something bad would happen in afterlife, but the look on Emilie’s face makes him consider it. He immediately wants to help – but they never talked and his only weapon is a pen. 

“We are going to remember things this week,” she announces and taps her fingers rhythmically on the desk. “And we’re going to start with something positive this time. Write about someone from your life that meant a lot to you. It can be a little story or just a characterization, but once again, take your time to think about it. Think about someone special.”

Gerard wants to write about Mikey at first. He’s already got the first sentence in his head, when he completely changes his mind. Mikey might have been his only friend, but Gerard never used the adjective ‘special’ with him. The true special person in Gerard’s life was his grandmother. 

He, once again, doesn’t have a problem with writing about the given subject. He chooses to write a little story – even though he mentions how kind and wonderful Elena was – and almost tears up during the process. 

Gerard says how much Elena loved to play the piano and tried to teach Gerard a few things. He tosses in how close they were to explain how thankful he was for her endeavor. He eventually gets to the part where Elena died when he was fifteen. Gerard then tried to play a small, easy thing on Elena’s piano after the funeral, but he was too disorientated and actually started crying halfway through the piece, so he failed it miserably and actually laughed at his own uselessness. He had a dream that night – Elena thanked him for trying and she told him his delicate fingers fit perfectly on the keys of her piano.

Gerard ends his story there; he leaves out the fact that she encouraged him to never stop playing. Because he gave up only a few weeks after her death and never had enough courage to touch her piano again. He regretted it now, but, of course, it was too late. He still feels like he failed her, no matter what.

He adds a little note, leaving out a few lines to part it from his story. He writes, _Don’t forget about your scars, smile when looking at them._

He doesn’t know when ‘scars’ became some sort of code word, but he knows Emilie will understand.

***

Knot after knot after knot tie in Gerard’s stomach as he gets to the hotel cafeteria where he’s supposed to meet Frank. His pace is slow as if he was trying to delay their meeting as much as possible and wow, that’s probably exactly what he’s doing. He even hopes Frank won’t be there or that Gerard will have trouble spotting him so he could leave after a few embarrassing seconds.

Because there’s just something about Frank that makes Gerard feel itchy all over. Maybe it’s that Frank doesn’t have a care in the world. He just goes with it, whatever happens. Yes, he obviously fucked up his life, but he realizes it. He’s funny and he’s friendly – not awkward around people at all. He’s pretty much everything Gerard always wanted to be but never was.

And now, when they’re about to meet and actually spend some time together, even if it will be just a few minutes, their little worlds will collide. And most likely cause a huge explosion. Gerard is ridiculously attracted to Frank’s spirit and the way he carries himself; and he’s ridiculously scared to disgust Frank with who he is. 

His plan doesn’t work out, though. Frank’s sitting right behind the first table that’s in Gerard’s line of sight and he’s waving furiously at him, probably in case Gerard was half blind and missed him.

Gerard sighs, still kind of reluctant but accepting his faith bravely, and shuffles over to Frank’s table. “You sure you don’t wanna go to the restaurant instead?” he asks in a shaky voice (and mentally slaps himself for it).

Frank just groans and without any verbal response just simply nods towards the free chair.

Gerard obeys and takes it, hitting his ass on the hard surface. Damn, he really doesn’t like cafeterias. 

“I must admit I was scared that you wouldn’t show up. But just for a second,” Frank rambles on and one corner of his mouth jumps up a bit, as if he really wanted to smile but tried to hide it. As if he was really happy to see Gerard, but was too shy to show it. Gerard’s heart skips a beat at this thought before he can tell himself that that’s just impossible. 

“We only talked for a few minutes and you already know that much about me?” Gerard jokes but considering Frank’s surprised and disappointed face, it didn’t really come out that way. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that! I didn’t mean that I didn’t wanna come.” _He totally didn’t wanna come._ “I mean, we’ve only met and you already noticed that I’m awkward around new people. That’s what I meant,” he finishes and tries to ignore the blush that’s creeping onto his face. God, he needs to stop this stupid thing with blushing. What even? 

“Oh!” Frank squeaks and Gerard’s rather happy to see a blush forming on Frank’s face as well. And another small smile. “Okay, then. And you’re not awkward,” he adds after a second, kicking Gerard under the table gently.

Gerard smiles, but doesn’t say anything to that. 

They order coffee. Gerard goes for some chicken with rice – he doesn’t really feel like trying out the cafeteria’s specialties – and Frank orders a salad with a name so complicated that Gerard doesn’t manage to remember it. (Later, he just sees there are a lot of vegetables in there.) 

To his surprise, Gerard gets comfortable around Frank rather quickly. At first, they bond over stupid things – just like it was with Lindsey. Comic books, music, favorite movies. When they start talking about their favorite comic stores, they actually find out that they’re both from New Jersey and wow, that’s surprising.

“Oh man, how come we never met back there?” Frank complains loudly. “I can’t believe we both hated Superman and also the guy working in that comic shop. _Why did we never meet?”_

“I have no idea,” Gerard shrugs his shoulders, but honestly, he’s going to be asking that question for weeks now. If he only managed to find a friend on Earth… well, maybe he wouldn’t end up here. Why the fuck do things like this happen? “I guess that’s fate,” he answers his own question out loud, sighing. 

“Do you really believe in fate?” Frank asks seriously and they continue their conversation from there. It’s amazing how they’re able to change the subject every three minutes and never actually run out of words. Gerard completely forgets that they’re supposed to go to the movies together, to see Gerard’s life.

He only remembers it later that night when he’s already in bed, trying to fall asleep. He freaks out because he still fears Frank’s reaction, but also, this really little part of him is fucking excited.

And a part, a part even smaller from the one where he holds his excitement in, hopes that it would end up as a date. And it’s crazy, because they’re in afterlife and not on Earth and they’ll make them go back and forget about all of this. But Frank makes Gerard feel, which hasn’t happened for months. Gerard’s numbness is definitely gone. And he knows that he should accept Frank as a friend and nothing more, but he can’t. When they hugged after saying goodbye, Gerard felt fucking butterflies in his stomach. Holy shit, he’s so fucking screwed.

***

Gerard spots Frank in the crowd on Wednesday in the hotel lobby (which he calls ‘the great hall’ in his head because it just simply reminds him of Harry Potter, minus four huge tables and Dumbledore). He considers walking up to him and saying hi, but, of course, he chooses the cowardly way out and disappears as simply as he can. Nope, he’s definitely not talking to Frank on Wednesday.

He, though, dresses up on Thursday. As much as he hates the reason they’re meeting today, he might as well try and look nice. Well, of course, he’s limited by his natural ugliness, but trying counts too, right? He goes for his black pants again – they’re simply his favorite and he would never feel comfortable without them. He compensates it with a white Black Flag t-shirt, and he even tries to do his hair nicely, even though he fails at this one.

However, he thanks God or whatever entity for his closet. It’s the same things he had back on Earth and that is one of the best things about this place, because for once, he’s not ashamed to wear them and doesn’t get shit for it. 

He’s fidgeting during his lessons. He avoids Emilie’s look, mostly because he feels like he went too far with his last note – she didn’t say anything back and she seems a bit distant. 

And he just really fears any kind of judgment again. What if he looks stupid? He doesn’t need any weird looks from others before he meets Frank, thank you very much. If someone as much as just raised an eyebrow at him, he would probably end up running back to his room and not going out for hours. 

Gerard somehow gets through his lessons and then there’s Lindsey to distract him. The movie is on at two and he’s supposed to meet Frank half an hour before that, so he can practically head there right after lunch and the nervousness strikes fiercely again. 

He hates going somewhere to meet someone – always worrying he’ll be too late or too early or that something that will ruin it all could happen. He’d rather be picked up, but he would never tell Frank about it – it would smell too much like a date, and no, Gerard was not bringing something like that up.

Gerard’s somewhere between the restaurant and the movies, when someone jumps on his back and throws their arms around his neck, giving him a heart attack.

Gerard gasps and yells, bending over. He’s breathing heavily when they finally let go and set him free again. He chokes a bit and standing up, he imitates a fake karate move he probably saw somewhere in Karate Kid. He earns a laugh with this – and it’s Frank who’s laughing at him.

Well, Gerard probably shouldn’t be surprised that it was Frank. He shouldn’t. Frank is a little (yet dangerous) ball of energy. 

“What the hell?” Gerard stutters out eventually, trying to get his frustration under control. Seriously, if Frank scares him like this one more fucking time, he’s so going to lose his shit. And probably scream and then regret it later. 

“Dude, dude, _dude,”_ Frank chants with his eyes wide and a huge smile on his face. Gerard’s face scrunches up to a confused grimace, but then Frank points at Gerard’s chest and then at his own repetitively and yeah, that’s actually pretty awesome. Frank is wearing _the exact same shirt_ as Gerard (well, a few sizes smaller, but…). 

“You like Black Flag!” Gerard acclaims and has to fight the urge to clap his hands like a teenage cheerleader. He completely, totally forgets how Frank jumped on him; he actually feels like hugging him right now.

“Oh man, I _love_ Black Flag!” Frank sing songs and throws his arm around Gerard’s shoulders. He doesn’t comment on Gerard’s hair or Gerard’s face or anything, but Gerard knows Frank noticed him anyway – he ran his gaze from his shoes up to the crown of his head. He smirks and actually lets Frank touch him, leading them both towards the movies. The fear in him grows and grows, but he really hopes for the best. If Frank judges him… that just wouldn’t be right. 

It seems like Gerard blinks only a few times and then they’re looking for two empty seats in the cinema. They find it easily, there’s only two other guys (one in the first and one in the tenth row) and Gerard tries his best not to think about them.

The movie is only twenty minutes in when Gerard looks away and closes his eyes eventually. He just simply can’t relive it all over again. 

He can’t watch himself get in such a much mess by dating William and losing everything with him. He can’t watch himself fight with him, he can’t watch William slap him. He can’t watch himself run away and close up with definitiveness. He can’t watch himself building up an impressive wall between him and everyone else. He can’t watch himself bleed anymore. He spends the rest of the movie just wishing it was already over. By the end, he doesn’t really care about Frank’s opinion. Frank can think whatever he wants of Gerard and he wouldn’t care. He wants to get out, he needs some fresh air, he’s filled up with the unnatural afterlife and he wants to forget _everything right about fucking now._

But as much as he wants to just get up and run – and he’s about to jump up the second the screen goes black – there’s a firm hand holding him down. Frank’s hand pushing down on his forearm with strange force.

He dares to open his eyes and look to his side to see Frank almost panicking. “You should have said something,” he whispers after a few seconds when the lights finally turn on again.

Gerard purses his lips, feeling Frank’s palm carving a mark into his skin. “Like what? Like, let’s not see my movie because I killed myself and hurt everyone around me?”

Frank shakes his head. “Gerard,” he practically cries as he squeezes Gerard’s arm, making it almost unpleasant for him. “This is some heavy stuff. You’ve been here for, what? Two weeks? That’s not enough time to deal with all this. And I’m a stranger. I shouldn’t… I had no right to invade your privacy like this.”

And Frank the cheerful teenager is gone. He’s completely forgotten or maybe just hidden behind Frank’s serious mask. Gerard’s in awe at that. Frank looks sorry, yes, but it’s not pity. And there’s no disgust in his face, nothing. That’s when the relief washes over Gerard and he finally lets out a long, deep breath. 

“I don’t mind,” he mumbles quietly. “I was just scared you would judge me for what I’ve done,” he admits weakly and drops his gaze, staring at their kind of connected hands. 

Frank opens his mouth a few times, as if he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he wanted to say that he couldn’t judge Gerard, not really, because he sort of killed himself as well. Maybe he wanted to say that he doesn’t get it. Maybe he wanted to pull Gerard into a hug – or that’s more what Gerard wishes for, but it would be nice if it flashed through Frank’s thoughts as well. 

“I’m sorry,” Frank lets out eventually, his hand falling down from Gerard’s. “But I’m sure you had your reasons. I don’t understand them completely, but maybe you could, like, enlighten me? Basically,” he sighs, “I’m trying to say that you can talk to me about anything you might ever want to, but I suck at being intimate and shit. So, that’s that.” 

Gerard huffs out a laugh looking up to Frank’s flushed face. Why the hell is he blushing?

“Thank you, Frankie,” he manages to say in the end and his own heart flutters at that nickname. 

Gerard feels amazing, almost invincible. Another person accepts him; gives him a chance. Everyone always tried to talk Gerard out of everything or just overlooked him and also his problems. Brendon… yeah, he accepted Gerard, but that was kind of his job. And Lindsey actually had no right to criticize him, because she got here just like he did. But Frank – Frank is a different case. Frank’s nice, friendly, Frank’s from out there. Frank’s a person that can easily make friends and talk around others and express himself. And he’s obviously found a place somewhere inside of him that he keeps for Gerard. That feels warm, good – because Frank is someone Gerard would definitely want. And not just as a friend. Which could end up being a huge problem. 

They shuffle out of the cinema just minutes later. It’s funny to think about it, considering how scared Gerard was of this day, but going to the movies together to see Gerard’s movie was probably the best idea. Frank’s acceptance makes him relax right away and suddenly, he’s got no fucking problem with chatting about various things and being simply himself. Gerard likes that and it seems that Frank likes it as well. He smiles a lot more at Gerard, who blushes back almost every single time.

In the evening, when he finally catches up with Brendon at dinner, he’s too dreamy for Brendon not to notice it. He doesn’t ask, though; there’s just this silly smirk on his lips like he just _knows_ , and Gerard’s grinning like a fool.

Halfway through the meal Gerard looks up and giggles. “Hey, Brendon,” he says to catch Brendon’s attention. When he’s got it, he continues. “How old are you?”

“Excuse me?” Brendon squeaks and flutters his eyelashes in surprise. He puts his fork down and glares at Gerard almost as if he was an old, offended lady.

“I don’t know, just,” Gerard shrugs his shoulders, “I wanted to know. Frank’s guide is over seven hundred years old! So I wondered how old _you_ were,” he explains and does a little victory dance inside of his head when Brendon grins. 

“I guess I get his name for exchange,” he says quizzically, making Gerard blush once again today. “I’m not that old,” he admits with a merely sad expression on his face. Gerard then recalls Pete telling him that Brendon was a newbie, but he couldn’t really connect it to a certain age at that time. “I’m four hundred and sixty.”

Gerard snorts and staring down at his plate and pokes at the carrot laying there with his knife. “Not that old, my ass!” 

And Brendon hisses again, because yeah, even ‘ass’ is a vulgarism for him. Gerard apologetically looks up and shrugs his shoulders, as if he was saying, _sorry, it’s hard to kill old habits._ Especially after spending the afternoon with someone who swears twice in four sentences. 

“Listen,” Gerard continues, totally using that he’s got a chance to talk about afterlife stuff with Brendon. Brendon usually makes him talk about random stuff, almost as if he thought that Gerard doesn’t need to know anything else about this world – but he does. He’s craving information. “I think there’s something wrong with Emilie. Do you ever get to talk to Leaders?”

Brendon frowns and chews on a piece of meat for a few seconds before swallowing and humming. “Not really, but I still knows things. Why are you worried about her?”

Gerard hesitates. He contemplates whether he should tell Brendon about the notes they’ve exchanged. He wanted to keep it a secret, like something that only his memory holds. And even now, he doesn’t want to change that. It’s like something that makes him feel special every time he doubts something. The fact that she gave him her name isn’t so special anymore – she obviously left her signature on other works too, since everyone in his course is now talking about Emilie or Ms. Autumn. But the note she left him, that’s still something extraordinary and only for him, so he decides not to bring it up. Maybe he’ll have to tell it to someone one day, but it doesn’t seem necessary and he can talk himself out of this differently. He can play it right.

He shrugs his shoulders and sighs. “She seems kinda… distant. And she looked really exhausted on Monday.”

“And you managed not to ask until today? Wow,” Brendon giggles, but then his face falls serious and he brushes his palm over it, tugging at his hair a bit. “You notice things. That’s so not cool. No one teaches us how to handle that.”

It’s painfully true that people usually notice only themselves, but Gerard practically spent his whole life noticing others so he wouldn’t notice himself. He even came to the point where he was fine as long as there were no mirrors anywhere near him. He couldn’t stand looking at his reflection; he couldn’t even stand thinking about who he was and what did he look like. Somewhere in his mind, always there, always present, was the fact that he was disgusting all over. He just focused on other people, then, and everything seemed to ease a little. 

“You handle that by answering my questions,” Gerard mumbles instead of saying anything of what’s been running through his mind. 

Brendon sighs again, and it’s obvious that he doesn’t really want to talk about these things with Gerard, but it’s like he doesn’t really have a choice. It’s like he knows that Gerard’s persistent and he won’t stop asking until he got an answer. 

“The previous courses ended last week. On Sunday, we sent them back to Earth. Well, all the Leaders did,” Brendon points out. Gerard’s staring at him now, hypnotizing him, hungry for every word because this sounds astounding. “It’s their responsibility, their duty. After leading you through the course, they also send you back. It probably kept her up all night because most of the people here are at her course. It’s a lot of work to send a soul back to Earth.”

“What exactly does she have to do?” Gerard asks breathlessly, eyes wide.

Brendon rolls his eyes at Gerard’s curiosity, but keeps talking anyway. “They have to drain the soul out of your body. Then, they transform it to a matter that’s able to go fly through all the portals between afterlife and Earth and they have to reset it so you forget everything. Then they send you back, but they’re free only when your soul sinks to your body.”

“But how do they do that? Do they, like, use magic or something?” Gerard suggests dumbly and gesticulates, whispering ‘abracadabra’ silently in his mind. 

Brendon huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “That’s ridiculous,” he states and awards Gerard with an amused look. “They use their mind. They just think. You know, thinking. You ever heard about that?” He pokes at Gerard’s temple twice and laughs again with all his honesty. 

“Oh Jesus Christ, shut up,” Gerard mutters and slides down on his chair trying to disappear. He’s really thankful for all the information, though, and when Brendon finally stops laughing, his embarrassment is kind of bearable. They finish their dinner in silence, Brendon thinking about who-knows-what and Gerard completely lost in his thoughts. 

Of course, he’s thinking about Frank.

***

Frank pretty much becomes a huge part of Gerard’s afterlife-life. After another week (where they start seeing each other on a daily basis and spend literally every second of their free time together) Gerard gives in to his feelings and after a late night struggle, he admits to himself that he indeed has a huge crush on his friend.

From that point on, his perspective somewhat changes and he doesn’t look at Frank like he did before. He notices all the little things – Frank’s little, almost invisible freckles; Frank’s cute nose and the way it scrunches up when he giggles or when he’s amused; Frank’s perfect lips and the cherry like color they have and how they shine when he runs his tongue over them idly; Frank’s ruffled black hair curling slightly just above his ears; Frank’s long delicate fingers that brush against his every time they hug. Everything about Frank drives Gerard crazy with no mercy.

***

After two weeks of their friendship, Gerard finally convinces Frank that they eat in the restaurant. The moment they sit down behind a table, Gerard feels comfortable – just like Frank doesn’t.

That day, Gerard finds a leather jacket in his closet. He has no idea where it came from and he’s pretty sure he never even thought of buying one when he was alive, but it definitely comes in handy. It gives him this creepy feeling that Pete or someone of the same importance is watching him and knows what he needs and what he fucking _thinks,_ but he’s not going to complain.

He actually thinks that he looks nice in the jacket. He even chooses to wear his blue jeans just to pinpoint out the beauty of the leather jacket, and a simple red t-shirt. He’s not exactly dressed up, but he really does feel nice.

And Frank fucking looks nice. He looks like the prettiest boy Gerard’s ever seen in his whole life. And he’s just wearing his jeans that are ripped around his knees and a Friday the 13th t-shirt that reads _‘Welcome to Crystal Lake’_ and it’s the coolest thing ever. He idly comments on the fact that Jason is one of his favorites and Frank smiles in response. It’s not a surprise anymore when they find out that they have something in common. They have _everything_ in common, fuck. It’s incredible. 

“So, why exactly did you refuse to eat here before?” Gerard nags gently with a small smirk. 

Frank scrunches up his nose like he always does and shrugs. “Too fancy,” he says, absently running his fingers over his fork and spoon repeatedly. “But no, really. It’s just that in these restaurants, people always pretend to be someone they’re not and I don’t like that. At all. Except my father was a different case – he invited us to a fucking expensive, noble restaurant and announced that he’s going to leave mom and live with his secretary during the desert. Pretty much ruined the mood, you know?” He adds a laugh, but it doesn’t convince Gerard for a moment. 

Gerard swallows dryly and looks away, hypnotizing the waiter. Now, this is really awkward. He tries to figure out what to do – whether he should apologize or try and turn it into a joke somehow, but he doesn’t even know what relationship Frank had had with his father and if it hurt him seriously.

“Did you love your father?” he asks then, regretting it almost immediately. It’s not like they’ve never talked about serious things, it’s just… It’s intense and bye-bye to feeling comfortable. 

“Fuck yeah, I did,” Frank bursts out almost as if he was waiting for this specific question. “But I refused to see him ever again after that restaurant thing. Just, no.” 

“How old were you when he did that? It… I don’t think it was in your movie,” Gerard acclaims confusedly. How come something so important and kind of life changing wasn’t there? 

“I have no idea why they decided to leave it out. I guess my father just wasn’t good enough to care about. And yeah, I was fifteen.”

Frank’s words are harsh – too harsh to be really true. Gerard knows that Frank cared about him – maybe cared a lot – and that it must have been hard for him. Especially if it happened when Frank was fifteen; people are the most fragile at that age. Gerard knows that. 

“I’m sorry, I really am,” Gerard says with concern and he really wishes he could just reach out and cover Frank’s hand with his own to comfort him. “We can go to the hotel cafeteria if you want. We don’t have to stay here any longer.” 

Frank smiles at that, almost as if he was waiting for this kind of confirmation. Like he just needed Gerard to say that they could leave at any moment if they wanted to. His face eases then, relaxes, and he smiles again.

“No, you like it here. I can survive one evening, really,” he argues and Gerard’s ready to let it go, when Frank adds, “But seriously, let’s order something and then let’s get the fuck out of here. Hurry up.” 

Gerard giggles, grabbing the menu. He can’t help but notice that Frank smiles shyly and there’s a blush on his face when he thinks that Gerard’s not watching. But he is. He always is. 

But because they work so perfectly together, they manage to have fun even in the restaurant. They don’t stay longer than is necessary, though – they leave, but they settle down on the bench between the two main buildings. 

No one really stays out here. It’s not because they’re on a small island that ends where the first building starts. It looks just like a normal world, like they made the edges invisible. But they’re there. There’s this tension radiating off of them, saying that it’s better not to get too close. The tension gets you even when you’re just rushing from one building to another, and it’s not really attractive to people. Most of them just decide to stay inside – but right now, both Frank and Gerard need some fresh air. Gerard doesn’t know why Frank needs it, but he needs it because he’d do something really stupid (like kiss Frank, on the cheek maybe) otherwise. 

“I’m glad I met you here,” Frank mutters after a few moments and slides his hand around Gerard’s waist, snuggling closer to him. And Gerard tries his best to take that as a friendly gesture.

He clears his throat and nods. “Me too. It’s such a shame that we didn’t meet back there.”

He doesn’t expect Frank to whine at that. But that noise is there, right in his ear, and it’s in the end the most perfect response to Gerard’s sentence. Frank sounds like an animal for those three seconds. Gerard has no idea what’s going on in Frank’s head, he doesn’t even want to know, but he’s desperate.

But then he remembers that even if they met back on Earth and he would still have his stupid crush on Frank (which he probably would), he would be too scared to do anything about it. It would be real life; Gerard’s real life with no friends. Frank would be his only little connection with the world and he wouldn’t risk it for anything. Even if he thought Frank felt the same, he just wouldn’t… he would never make the first step.

But here, in the afterlife, why shouldn’t he? They won’t remember any of this anyway. It will disappear, every single second they spent together and breathed the same air of nothing, it will be gone when they are. Isn’t that worth it? Shouldn’t Gerard just go for it, get ready for any consequences? He should, he totally fucking should, because this might be his only chance and he feels like no human should die without feeling loved or at least without loving someone. 

He takes a deep, shaky breath and shifts on the bench so he’s facing Frank’s profile. It could be easier like this, with Frank staring into who-knows-where. The tension is even more present now, nagging at Gerard, pushing him towards Frank’s face.

He leans closer, briefly realizing that his whole body is shaking with anticipation and fear all at the same time, and brushes his lips against Frank’s cheek. Frank freezes, but doesn’t move a single inch – which Gerard takes like an approval. 

He moves down to Frank’s lips, touching the corner of Frank’s mouth. He then nuzzles closer, connecting their cheeks, pressing his own against Frank’s. He reaches up, cupping Frank’s other cheek and pulling away a bit, he makes Frank turn his head so he’s looking directly in Gerard’s eyes. Gerard presses his forehead against Frank’s with a low thump and giggles absently. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he confesses shyly and closes his eyes for a second.

Before he can open them, Frank whispers, “Me neither, but it’s okay,” and he’s making the next move and he covers Gerard all over with his lips pressing against Gerard’s. 

Gerard breathes out, finding himself squeezing the fabric of Frank’s t-shirt so much that his knuckles are turning white. The tension radiating off of the edges puts them both in a bubble, or at least it feels like that, because a hot wave rushes over Gerard and leaves him gasping. 

He breaks the kiss, grabbing Frank’s hand and pulling him up from the bench. He wants to say so many things, he wants to ramble and he wants to taste Frank’s lips again, but words are too much and too little for him right now. Because he _needs;_ it’s rushing through his whole body, filling his veins, contaminating his nervous system and infecting his brain. He’s not capable of talking, he’s only capable of moving and feeling and running. 

He can’t even blurt out a question to ask where Frank’s room is. He speechlessly drags Frank to his own room, smashing the door close behind them.

They’re both breathing heavily – and who knows if it’s because it’s been _such a long time_ since they kissed out there and they need it to live now, or if it’s because they ran the whole way. 

Suddenly, when they’re finally here and have some privacy, neither of them do anything. Gerard lets go of Frank’s hands, letting his own fall loose by his sides. They stare at each other, as if they didn’t have enough of that in the past few weeks. 

Frank smiles eventually, dropping his gaze just for a second and then looking right back at Gerard. “I really liked it when we didn’t know what we were doing,” he manages to say in a raspy voice and a blush covers his cheeks. It’s enough – it’s actually more than Gerard could ever ask for – for Gerard to finally make up his mind. He immediately moves closer, hesitantly resting his palms on Frank’s hips, and he tries to see an answer in Frank’s eyes. It’s not there, no, of course it’s not, but then Frank nods and that’s the exact answer Gerard was hoping for, and it’s everything and nothing and it hurts in such a wonderful way that he leans closer and kisses Frank again. 

Their kiss is kind of awkward, because it’s so fucking furious and urgent. It’s like they’re fighting – pressing their mouths against each other with such force that it leaves both their lips swollen and Gerard can feel Frank’s teeth on his upper lip within fifty seconds. 

He’s not even sure if he wants to make it all tongue, so he just tilts his head a bit to the side and sucks tenderly on Frank’s lower lip, getting a low groan in response. His knees wobble then, and the only thing that keeps him standing is the fact that he’s clutching Frank’s waist, pulling him closer and closer.

It’s Frank who decides to take it further. With Gerard’s mouth still sucking on his lip, he somehow fights his tongue into Gerard’s mouth and runs his tongue over Gerard’s teeth. It takes Gerard off guard for a second until he realizes what’s happening and figures out what he’s supposed to do. He moves his mouth again, opening it up for Frank and moaning when Frank takes the opportunity without hesitation.

He feels hot all over when Frank’s tongue fills his mouth. It’s been years since he dated William and since he tried to forget everything about that relationship, but right now, this second, he remembers everything. He remembers how to kiss so it’ll make the other person feel good; he remembers where to put his hands and what noise he should make to get the sort of reaction he wants.

Gerard’s relationship with William was no rainbows and butterflies. Eventually, it was just a lot of fighting and a lot of fucking. Gerard had no idea what he was doing, but that was the _wrong_ kind of not knowing, it didn’t feel like it feels with Frank now. He obeyed every time, did whatever it took to make William feel good. And if he was a good boy, William made him feel like he was worth it, like he was good enough. And even though they broke up through a slap and a punch, Gerard knew how to use everything he’d learned during their romance. He wasn’t that dumb. 

Wanting to make an impression, he licks at Frank’s tongue slowly and Frank appreciates it immediately with a low noise deep down in his throat, but it still vibrates up to Gerard’s mouth and makes him shiver. He does that motion again, quicker this time, and Frank grinds against him.

Gerard, who’s himself ridiculously turned on, feels the growing bulge in Frank’s pants right away. It makes him moan, it makes him fucking grind back – just knowing _he_ did this to Frank is enough to drive him crazy or even make him come. 

He – not really thinking about it, not even for a second – he drops to his knees and opens his eyes to face Frank’s belt. He sighs and nuzzles his face against Frank’s thigh, feeling the heat of his body through the fabric of Frank’s pants. He runs his hands up Frank’s calves up up up to his hips, and then focuses on his fly, managing to open it up in a few seconds.

He’s someone else right now. He doesn’t know if it should be like this, if it happens to all people or if it’s just him, but when he’s about to get intimate with someone, he loses himself. He becomes someone else. He becomes someone confident and seductive; someone who knows what to do and what to say. He pulls Frank’s pants down to his knees. He’s just about to do the same with Frank’s underwear when he feels Frank’s fingers against the skin on his face.

He doesn’t pay attention to it; he just playfully runs his fingers just above the hem of Frank’s boxers. But then Frank’s right there - and his crotch is out of Gerard’s reach. He drops to his knees too, cupping Gerard’s face with his warm, sweaty palms. 

“No,” Frank breathes out and Gerard’s taken aback. He wants to argue back, wants to fight about this, wants Frank’s cock in his mouth and he wants to hollow his cheeks around it and swallow and hear Frank moan; but it seems like he won’t even have a chance. 

“What? What is it?” Gerard whines, suddenly scared. He covers Frank’s hands that are still peacefully resting on his cheeks with his own. “What have I done?” 

“No, no, nothing, it’s not you,” Frank hushes him, placing small butterfly kisses all over Gerard’s flushed face. He must be hideous. “Well, it is,” he admits after a few seconds and laughs nervously. “I just. I want your mouth, I do. But I want your mouth _on mine.”_

“But-“ Gerard tries to choke out, but Frank stops him with a shake of his head and then smothers him with another kiss.

This is something different, something Gerard didn’t experience before. He realizes that he’s not with the drunk Frank he’d seen in his movie, who would hook up with just anyone. He’s with the Frank that was always hiding under layers of booze and pills, and this is his true self. He doesn’t seem to struggle with his orientation, though; from the way he’s kissing Gerard (like there’s no tomorrow, like they’re about to die any second now), he can tell. And yes, it does feel amazing.

But it’s a foreign land Gerard had never stepped on. He feels uncomfortable all of a sudden, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or how to move. They’re just awkwardly kneeling on the floor together, making out. It’s bizarre, surreal. 

“Are you alright?” Frank breathes out after a few minutes when he notices that Gerard’s not reciprocating anymore and that he’s just letting Frank kiss him, moving his tongue lazily. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gerard repeats himself again and shrugs his shoulders, looking down. If he didn’t look away, he would just stare at Frank’s red lips shamelessly. “I mean… I’ve never had this, you know? And it’s nice and everything, but it’s… it’s new. You know?”

Frank smiles (and Gerard just has to look, he has to) and strokes Gerard’s shoulder. “You’re the cutest fucking thing, Gerard. But yeah, I know what you mean,” he assures him soothingly.

Gerard hates that. He hates being called cute, it sounds disgusting to him; it’s as if he was just a stupid little (naïve) girl. But Frank can’t know that and Gerard doesn’t say anything. He knows Frank’s words are sincere and that should be enough for now. He reaches out and tangles his fingers in Frank’s hair, who leans into the touch and purrs like a kitten. It makes Gerard smile like crazy. 

“Let’s make out on my bed,” Gerard suggests eventually and Frank’s more than eager to agree. They climb up on it, already just a mess of limbs and hair and tongues. 

They make out for a little longer, then cuddle next to each other, their fingers intertwined, and they talk about nothings and everythings again, almost as if nothing had happened. And Gerard really likes that they can still be friends, even though they’re not afraid to show any kind of attraction to the other. After two hours, Gerard turns from horny through cuddly right to sleepy, and that’s when Frank insists that he’s got to go. Gerard doesn’t really argue about that, even though a little part of him wants Frank to stay. But maybe, that would be a bit too quick, too. And they obviously don’t want that.

So Gerard falls asleep alone. His mind is too full with images of Frank’s mouth and his fingers, and he’s secretly reliving every single second of their make out session. He would probably jerk off to it, if he wasn’t so fucking tired by now. However, his mind is too busy with this; he doesn’t have time to think about how they shouldn’t hesitate. How they should just go for it, for everything. Because, in the end, if they really want to do this, they’ll have to go through all relationship phases in a few weeks.

Because their time here is limited and then they’ll forget about each other. And there’s no coming back. There will be no Frank in Gerard’s memory, and there will be no Gerard in Frank’s.

But right now, Gerard is too happy to even consider that.

***

When Gerard wakes up the next morning, it’s early, it’s Saturday and Brendon’s sitting cross-legged on the empty side of Gerard’s bed; almost as if he knew that Gerard needs to talk to him, even though Gerard himself hasn’t even thought of it yet.

“Rise and shine!” Brendon sing-songs and shifts on the bed. 

“What are you doing here?” Gerard asks sleepily and lazily rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. Once again, as if it was a rule of afterlife, everything comes back to him in fog. 

“Don’t you want to talk to me?” Brendon raises an eyebrow at him, pursing his lips. Of course Brendon knows. Gerard has no idea _how_ – maybe it’s simply because Brendon always knows – but he does. And it’s creepy and genuinely unsettling, but at least Gerard doesn’t have to struggle and actually try and find Brendon on his own. At least Brendon is already here to make things easier. 

“I do,” he mutters, sits up on the bed and leans his back against the headboard. “I’m in trouble.”

“Nah,” Brendon argues and waves his hand. “As long as you don’t steal or tear off one of Pete’s blue deer paintings, you’re fine. It can’t be that bad.”

Gerard’s eyes widen and he tries to fight off the snort that’s coming up his throat. Laughing at those paintings could probably cause just as much trouble. “Pete painted them?” he asks instead in a high-pitched voice, doing his best not to laugh. 

Brendon simply nods, holding his serious face up. Maybe, Gerard thinks, blue deer seem quite normal to old souls. Maybe, he’ll be that old one day and he’ll understand what is so cool about something so ridiculous. For now, though, he just really needs to stay calm. He can’t burst out laughing. The task seems harder than one would think, though.

“So, what’s this so-called trouble?” Brendon gently brings the subject up again and Gerard sighs.

“I like Frank,” he confesses and Brendon gives him a look that quite clearly says, _Yes, everyone in here knows about that, haven’t you noticed?_ Gerard narrows his eyes and continues. “And, okay, we went to the restaurant together last night, and after that, we… We kinda kissed outside and then we got here and made out. For a very, very long time.”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?” Gerard snaps at Brendon almost angrily, forgetting about Pete’s funny paintings completely. “That’s the problem! Either there is a rule that forbids us all from falling for each other or it’s really stupid of us both if we’re just going to forget about it!” 

“You tame yourself too much,” Brendon responds almost immediately and shakes his head. “I’m just your guide, therefore I can’t help you with these things, but let me just say – you tame yourself too much. You need to let go and embrace whatever you’re feeling right now. It might not come back ever again.” 

For the first time in Gerard’s rather short stay in afterlife, Brendon’s really serious. The usual spark is still in his eyes, but Gerard can see that he’s not joking and that he takes this seriously. He holds his breath for a second and then buries his head in his hands. 

“But I feel like I can’t let go. What the hell am I supposed to do?” he muffles against his palms, huffing out an angry breath. He knows he’s acting like a diva. He knows he should just fucking move on, find Frank and kiss the shit out of him, because that’s what you do when you feel like Gerard does right now; full of emotions, ready to jump off a cliff for Frank willingly. He shouldn’t doubt anything that’s going on in his mind, and he shouldn’t fucking doubt what he feels for Frank. It might not be the best thing that could happen to him in afterlife, considering that it will indeed end soon and then he’ll forget, but it’s definitely the best thing that happened to him since he was born. And he should go for it and embrace it, just like Brendon says.

Brendon gently curls his fingers around Gerard’s wrist, bringing his hands down. It’s cold again, just like every time Brendon touches him, and it calms him down a bit. 

“I think you should talk to your Leader about it,” Brendon suggests. Gerard assumes that this is really not Brendon’s place to give him any advice, but talking to Emilie seems pretty terrifying. He’s been fine just looking at her, talking would be too much. 

“What if she says I should forget about Frank right now and not even wait until I go back to Earth?” he whines unreasonably, because that’s really not what he fears. 

“I’m sure she would never say that,” Brendon argues quietly and lets go of Gerard’s hand. “And if she does anyway, isn’t that what you want to hear? So far, it sounds like it is.”

It leaves Gerard gasping – it has a stronger effect on him than Brendon’s previous words. Is that what he really wants to hear? Is he really so scared of feeling anything for anyone that he would give up Frank for it? Does he really just need someone to tell him that he shouldn’t see Frank ever again? Or is a push all he needs? Maybe it would be enough if someone just told him to pull his shit together and spend every single minute of his time with Frank until they don’t take it from him.

***

Gerard doesn’t see Frank the whole weekend, and he guesses it is better off this way.

On Monday, he really debates whether he should listen to Brendon and really try and talk to Emilie, but at the end of his lessons, he decides against it. And he knows it’s only because he is a chicken. 

He really doesn’t predict that he’d see Frank at lunch. Frank never eats at the restaurant – and he has a real reason for it – so he goes there quite calmly. He only expects to see Lindsey there – maybe not even her, it’s not a rule that they meet there every day – but the first thing that hits him right in the face when he walks in is Frank’s face.

Frank is caught up in a conversation with some tattooed guy and he hasn’t noticed Gerard’s there just yet. Gerard really wants to take a few steps back and disappear, but Lindsey’s watching him from a table just beside Frank’s and wow, this couldn’t be more unfortunate. 

As he closes the gap between him and Frank’s table, Frank – of course – notices him. A huge smile spreads across his face right away, but Gerard only shyly smiles back and tearing his eyes off of Frank’s face, he slips behind the table Lindsey’s sitting at. He can almost hear Frank’s confusion, even over his heart beating furiously, and he seriously wants to bury himself in the ground. 

“Hi,” Gerard squeaks out in Lindsey’s direction and can practically feel Frank’s eyes glued to his back. He is so fucking screwed. He will never be able to explain this. He totally, completely killed every kiss they shared such a long-short-who-knows-anymore time ago. 

Everything Lindsey says comes in through one of Gerard’s ears and leaves unnoticed through the other. He hums when it seems appropriate, but mostly keeps quiet and pokes at his food. 

Frank stays in the restaurant the whole fucking time. It’s like he wants to stay here, to see if Gerard will do something; if he’ll react somehow, talk to him, just do something. And Gerard just can’t. He’s stuck. He’s so painfully anxious about everything, all of his fears coming back to him – what if he fucked this up completely; what if he just scared Frank away? What is he supposed to do now? And it’s also surprisingly easy to regret that he hadn’t just come up to Frank and talked to him. He should have done that. He’s in an even worse situation now – before, it was just awkward. Now, now it’s basically over. Frank will probably never talk to him again, because hello, Gerard is a fucking failure and a coward. Such a fucking coward.

“Let’s go outside,” Gerard chokes out after a while because once again, he feels like he’s about to have a panic attack. 

Damn, he really needs to do something about this. Like, maybe he could stop being such a fucking pussy. He’s about to have a panic attack in fucking afterlife. Who does that? 

“But I haven’t finished yet!” Lindsey acclaims – clearly annoyed – with a mouthful of potatoes. 

“You’re such a dude,” Gerard comments and basically drags her out of there, squeezing her elbow really hard. She snorts and protests for a few seconds, but when she manages to stuff another three little pieces of potatoes into her mouth, she goes quite willingly.

“So, what was that about?” she asks as they enter the second building. Gerard is _brave enough_ to shoot a glance at the bench where he kissed Frank on Friday - and air gets stuck in his throat almost immediately – when they cross the little piece of outside afterlife offers them. 

“What?” Gerard asks innocently, avoiding Lindsey’s focused look with success. _“What?”_ he repeats in a high-pitched voice eventually.

“You just dragged me out of the restaurant. What’s worse, you dragged me away from food. You’ve got some serious explaining to do.”

“Can’t we, like, move on or something?” he tries and scratches the back of his neck, keeping on walking. They automatically head towards the library – not for books, but it’s usually calmly quiet and there are huge armchairs where they can basically sit together, even though they’re a bit mushed together like that. Not that any of them mind – Lindsey’s uninterested like her feelings have kind of died with her, and well, Gerard’s obviously into guys, duh. 

“No, we really fucking can’t,” she argues and falls down onto the soft cushion, pulling Gerard down with her.

“I’m not telling you anything. I’m still embarrassed from telling you I’ve had a serious crush on Hawkeye. I. Am. Not. Telling. You.” 

Lindsey looks kind of frustrated at first. Almost as if she didn’t know if she should try to convince Gerard to tell her or if she should just make fun of him for having a ridiculous crush on one of the Avengers. Of course, she ends up doing something else completely – sprawled on the armchair, it’s quite easy for her to reach out and… start tickling Gerard. 

He squeaks and tries to pull away, but there’s no space – he hits his back painfully on the side armrest. He groans in pain, but it doesn’t stop Lindsey’s fingers that are running up and down Gerard’s sides. He squeezes his eyes shut and can’t help it but laugh and shriek.

“Jesus Christ, no, stop it!” he manages to choke out in small pauses, feeling his face turn red. Lindsey’s fingers are now stuck just somewhere under his armpits, digging in as if trying to tickle Gerard to death.

“Not until you spill your guts, you little Avenger,” she laughs and tickles Gerard’s stomach with one hand, making him bend over and throw his hands around, this time hitting his elbow against the exact same spot. 

“Okay!” he yells after a few more seconds, when he can’t bear Lindsey’s tickling anymore. She immediately stops and pulls away with a victorious smile on her rather pretty face. Her piggy tails dance around her face as she shifts a bit in the armchair to find a comfortable position. “I hate you and I’m gonna have bruises.”

“You love me,” she giggles, but carefully caresses Gerard’s hit elbow in an overprotective way. “Now tell me.”

Gerard sighs and stares down on his hands resting in his lap. “So, there’s this guy-“

“You do not want to tell me you’re crushing on someone in a fucking afterlife!” she exclaims, obviously surprised but also quite amused. _If she wasn’t a girl, I’d punch her in the shoulder really hard,_ Gerard thinks. But the truth is, he wouldn’t – she’s right, everything about his situation is ridiculous. And besides, Lindsey would probably just punch him back even harder.

“Not really crushing,” he admits and tilts his head to the side so his hair keeps his face in shadow. Lindsey doesn’t need to see him blushing, really. “More like making out in my room for two hours and then avoiding him like it’s my job.” 

Lindsey hisses just like Brendon does when Gerard swears and then makes a soft, humming noise. Gerard really wants her to say something, whatever – when she takes in a breath and then she’s squeezing Gerard’s arm fiercely.

“Oh my God,” she mumbles, “He was in the restaurant, right? That’s why you dragged me out of there! Who is he? Oh my God, where was he?” 

“Kinda sitting right behind the table beside ours?” he murmurs, ashamed. 

“And you didn’t even say hi to him!” Lindsey does what Gerard wanted to do then – slaps his shoulder really hard. “You dickface! What were you thinking?”

“Come on, you should be on my side in this!” he defends himself, which gets him another hard push. 

“Do you like him?” she asks instead and Gerard nods right away, trying to tell himself he’s so eager only because he’s afraid she’d punch him again. “So why in fucking hell would you avoid him?”

“Because,” Gerard whines and buries his face in his hands for a second before looking up again with a desperate expression on his face. “I mean, what’s the point? We have a few weeks left and then we’re back on Earth and we won’t remember each other.”

“Oh, baby,” she purrs suddenly and pulls him into a hug, stroking his hair. “I really pity you for your stupidity, honey.” He pulls away and frowns, then settles with one raised eyebrow. “Well,” she rolls her eyes, “If you’re not kidding and this is really the only thing bothering you, what else am I supposed to say? ‘Stupid’ is really the only word that comes to my mind.”

Gerard then sighs and lets himself be pulled into a hug again, because if anything, Lindsey is honest and she really means this. And even though it sometimes seems like her feelings are gone, he somehow believes her. He knows it himself; he’s just stupid. That’s all he is, that’s the only thing building up a wall between him and Frank.

***

It’s funny, because on Tuesday, Gerard is pretty much sure he failed whatever had been going on between him and Frank, but he still decides to talk to Emilie.

He sort of feels like he needs her opinion to either move on or try and come back, maybe solve something if possible. He doesn’t know where this feeling is coming from, but it’s bugging him throughout his lessons and he keeps staring at his Leader. He hands over an unfinished paper (which he’s really sad about, because their theme was _What made you smile on a bad day,_ that could be perfect if he wasn’t so damn distracted) and… well. The moment of truth comes.

Should he stay and talk to her? Should he not? What would be better? 

Emilie practically decides it for him when she gently closes the door behind Josh, who was the last one in the class except Gerard, and turns around clapping her hands slowly.

“I’m usually not good at the art of reading minds,” she states and going back to her desk, she picks up her vintage-looking kettle and two teacups. “But I could not miss your begging for a conversation.” 

He follows her with his eyes in awe as she puts all of the stuff on the desk he usually sits at and grabs a chair – which makes an unpleasant scratching noise as she moves it around. She sits down and gestures for Gerard to join her, which he immediately does.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“I assume it’s time you borrow my scars, then,” she cuts him off nonchalantly and pours them both a cup of tea, pushing one teacup forward, almost right into Gerard’s right palm. “How can I help you?”

Gerard is too overwhelmed to realize he’s actually talking to his Leader; and also to a woman he’d been admiring from afar. He only now notices that she tries to fake a British accent and that the tips of her fingers are red, almost as if she was a maid working really hard every day. There’s a calm aura lingering around her that keeps Gerard relaxed. He assumes he’ll hyperventilate later.

It’s not time to deny anything. In the end, they end up with this because they both know Gerard needs to get something off his chest and only someone like his Leader could actually help him and not just listen to him. 

“I’m afraid that-“

She cuts him off again, this time by placing her palm gently over Gerard’s, covering his skin and caressing it. It’s not cold like when Brendon touches him – it’s like grass slightly brushing over his skin, sharing its energy by sending it through his pores right into his veins. 

“Don’t be,” she says with a smile and rubs her fingers against the skin on Gerard’s wrist. “Everything happens for a reason here. If you love, it was truly meant to be. It only means you need to understand love before you leave again. Don’t run away.”

“Running away is all I ever did, though,” he admits in a whisper but doesn’t break their eye contact.

“Exactly,” Emilie smiles and pulls away, leaving Gerard’s skin alone and dead again. “But you ended up here and there is no way out, my dearest. Face your fears. That’s why you’re here.”

Gerard hums and stares for a while. Emilie’s eye shadows are just as red as her hair, but it doesn’t make the impression of bags under her eyes. It’s like it’s supposed to look like this, like blood running through her body even though she’s dead. She’s not wearing a corset today, but her dress is really tight around her chest anyway – white, with a small crimson heart under her left breast. It looks intriguing and if it wasn’t rude or if it was placed somewhere else, Gerard would stare. The skirt is white as well and looks like it’s ragged; like someone’s tore it apart, grabbed and pulled and destroyed. And she’s wearing boots. She’s fucking stunning.

“But what if I’m not good enough for this? What if I can’t?” he asks almost hopelessly and wishes she would touch him again.

Emilie smiles instead. “You can.”

She sounds so fucking sure of it that Gerard just can’t argue. And he doesn’t really want to; he feels full, like this is exactly what he needed to hear to know what to do. It’s funny that someone finally said this to him – he waited for years for his mother to encourage him, a simple _“you can”_ would do it for him – but his mother never even noticed how much crap Gerard was going through. And Gerard accepted it – or at least thought he did. Now that he had Emilie say it to him, he feels invincible.

If only parents took enough notice of their children, the world would be a happier place. If only parents were able to deal with their children’s problems and not blame themselves. If only parents could see. 

“Thank you,” he whispers instead of saying out loud everything that’s rushing through his mind. After this conversation, he kind of feels like Emilie knows everything about him anyway. And Gerard doesn’t mind – he more like appreciates her attention. 

“Did I heal the pain?” Emilie raises her eyebrow at him and her lips quirk into a smirk.

Gerard purses his lips and after a moment of hesitation, he shakes his head. “Only I can heal the pain. But you… cleared the wound and eased the process?” he tries, not really sure of his response. He just sort of feels like he has to say this and Emilie looks satisfied as well.

“Good. You’re smart. You’re going to be fine,” she reassures him once again, almost as if she was compensating everything Gerard didn’t get in his previous life. She then hums and drops her gaze to their teacups, looking quite sad.

“I’m sorry I haven’t drunk your tea,” Gerard apologizes awkwardly, rubbing his sweaty palm against the denim of his jeans. He’s fidgety; still not sure how he’s supposed to act around his Leader; if he’s showing enough respect; if she doesn’t expect him to say something specific; if he’s really going to be fine.

“That’s not why I brought it here. Do you know why I did it?” Gerard shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. “Because where there’s tea, there’s hope.”

***

It’s very irresponsible of Gerard, but he takes another day to figure out what to do. He doesn’t know where to find Frank – he doesn’t know where Frank’s room is, where his course is, at what time he goes for lunch. Of course, he isn’t in the restaurant the next day. And Lindsey isn’t either, thus he has to eat alone, being eaten by his thoughts at the same time.

He figures out he should find Jamia in the end. But how does one find someone else’s guide? He considers asking Brendon, but that would bring annoying and stupid questions along, which Gerard wants to prevent himself from. 

And fuck, Gerard really wishes Lindsey was here right now, he’s in desperate need of someone smart. 

Gerard ends up walking around the second building, trying to spot Frank somewhere or at least think of something. After an hour and a half, his legs hurt a lot and he’s tired of lurking at every corner, so he stops and leans against a wall, sighing. Fuck this shit. If he can call Brendon just by thinking about him, maybe it would work with other guides as well.

He closes his eyes and tries to recall how exactly Jamia looked the day he met her. Shorter black hair, huge smile, freckles. Catchy laughter. That’s all he can remember and so he focuses on it, considering it’s the only thing he can do.

He is actually quite astonished when someone taps his shoulder and when he flutters his eyes open, he’s facing Jamia. 

“Hi,” she beams and fixes her hair almost as if she’d messed it up when getting to him. “What do you need?”

“Wow, hey,” Gerard stutters out and manages to form an unsure smile on his lips. “I didn’t think this would actually work.”

“Well, duh,” she laughs and leans against the wall right beside Gerard. It reminds him of his first conversation with Frank and his heart skips a beat at that memory. For a second, he thinks that maybe he should have had run back then to avoid all the trouble, but – no. He doesn’t want to think that. He knows it’s not true; he knows the moments he’s had with Frank were probably the best ones. 

“So, I don’t know if this is rude or not… or if I’m crossing any line with it,” he starts off, sighing and rubbing his sweaty hands against the fabric of his jeans. “But I need to find Frank and I don’t know where he is,” Gerard finishes and looks at Jamia with as much innocence as he can produce. 

Jamia frowns then, making Gerard really nervous with it. “You ignored him,” she announces and Gerard’s eyes widen. “Yeah, he told me. He was actually really hurt by your behavior. Why should I help you?”

Gerard narrows his eyes. He gets a feeling – and he is probably right for once – that this is a test. And oh God, he always fails tests, no matter how easy they are. What’s the correct answer? What does she want him to say? Why are souls so complicated? They never tell you what they want straight away; you need to try to get their attention or to win their kindness. 

“I don’t know,” he sighs in the end and looks down, “I guess I don’t have a real excuse for myself. But I really want to fix it. To fix… well, everything.” 

Jamia sighs and when Gerard tries to catch her eyes again, she looks away. She’s unsure; if Gerard believed that guides could be anything else than cheerful and genuinely happy, he would assume that Jamia is uncomfortably nervous right now. But like this, he just settles with thinking she simply doesn’t know if she can trust him.

“Frank would punch me if he knew I’m helping you,” she utters eventually in resignation.

“He wouldn’t,” Gerard responds within one second and has to seriously fight his sudden need to hug the shit out of Frank’s guide. She totally saved his ass with this – even though she’s clearly not too happy about it – and he really doesn’t know if every guide is this understanding and kind, but he knows he will always think of Jamia with the adjective ‘awesome’ in his thoughts. 

“You boys, always so stupid,” she smiles slightly and then leans in, whispering the number of Frank’s room as if it was a top secret and no one could know. Well, that was probably true.

The number is 505. Gerard knocks on the door before he can change his mind. Waiting, he bites the inner side of his cheek so furiously that he cuts it open and it bleeds. He swallows small drops of blood with a disgusted grimace on his face. He’s running over the wound with his tongue when the door finally opens and Frank – who narrows his eyes the second he sees it’s Gerard – appears in front of him. 

They stare at each other for five awkward seconds before Gerard clears his throat and blurts out something he’d been thinking all the way here but never wanted to say out loud. “Your room number is an Arctic Monkeys song. How cool is that?” He giggles nervously running his trembling fingers through his hair. 

Frank leans against the doorframe and narrows his eyes even more. For a second, he looks like he wants to agree with Gerard – there’s this spark in his eyes, like he hoped someone would catch that reference; but not Gerard, because he was mad at him at the moment. So he keeps his poker face and crosses his arms across his chest. 

Gerard fidgets and bows his head, “You’re not talking to me,” he exclaims, obviously disappointed.

“Wow, is that really such a surprise?” Frank snorts and pulling away from the doorframe, he takes a few steps back. “You got bored of ignoring me?” he asks sarcastically and retreats back to the room. 

Gerard follows him without hesitation, closing the door behind him. Saying sorry is the hardest part – even when you know you’ve done something worth apologizing for. Admitting you’ve made a mistake is always a struggle and Gerard always has problems with it. 

Gerard is the master of lying. He is the master of making up fake excuses to prevent himself from saying sorry. But he is sorry. He’s sorry for so many things; he should apologize to his family, and he should apologize to himself. But right now, it’s not his mirror reflection he’s staring at; it’s Frank. He’s not courageous enough to close the gap between them, but he suddenly knows he can speak.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, then takes in a deep breath and looks right at Frank. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, louder this time.

Frank looks away. He chews on his bottom lip as he hypnotizes a spot on the wall.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you,” Gerard continues, taking one step closer cautiously. “It was stupid. _I am_ stupid. And I know it, and I’m really sorry. I was… I was scared, and I know it doesn’t stand as a good excuse, but it’s all I’ve got. I’m a coward.”

Frank sighs loudly, finally looking back at Gerard. “Why were you scared?” he asks in a raspy voice, almost as if he was on the verge of crying. _Now this is just ridiculous,_ Gerard thinks, why did I have to hurt him like this? He’s not like this.

“Scared of…” he trails off and whines in desperation. Fuck this, he’s just going to spill his guts and that’s it. “Scared of my feelings and scared of losing them. Scared of the thought that I’ll forget us. I couldn’t… I couldn’t even think straight.”

Frank is the one to close the gap between them. Gerard can’t read what’s hiding in Frank’s eyes when he cups Gerard’s face in his hands. “You’re not scared anymore?”

Gerard covers Frank’s palms with his own and closes his eyes for a brief second. “I’m freaking the fuck out,” he laughs shakily, getting the same nervous laughter from Frank. 

“Me too,” Frank admits after a while.

“But – you seem so calm. So okay with everything. Isn’t this – does this mean something to you at all or is it just –“

“Shut the fuck up right there,” Frank cuts him off and pulls his hands off of Gerard’s face, twining their fingers instead. “Would I be putting off a drama queen act here if it didn’t mean anything to me?” 

They both laugh again, even though it dies out fast. “I’m really sorry,” Gerard whispers again. What he gets in response takes him off guard, makes him lose his balance. He almost falls back, feeling weak in his knees, but everything tells him it’s not a hallucination, that it’s real. 

He gets Frank’s lips; Frank’s lips pressing against his gently, not pushy or too persistent. Frank just tastes him, moving his mouth against Gerard’s, breathing loudly. Gerard’s hands fall down along Frank’s sides, catching his hips and pulling him closer by them. He grips them, determined to leave marks. Their bodies collide and a quiet moan escapes Gerard’s mouth as Frank’s hands wander up his back. 

“Holy shit,” Frank groans when he pulls away, leaving Gerard gasping and leaning in to get back to Frank’s mouth. “You’re not running ever again, and I hope you get what I mean,” he adds after a second and tangles his fingers in Gerard’s black hair, pulling him closer again. 

It feels like nothing he’s ever felt before. Gerard doesn’t have enough time to think – he’s only aware of grabbing a fistful of Frank’s white, worn out t-shirt and sliding his other hand down his back until it reaches his belt. Before Frank invades Gerard’s mouth, he pushes at his chest with his hands to get him moving. Gerard obeys like there’s not really any other choice and takes a few steps back, almost afraid to fall down because his legs are a mess and he feels like he can’t really coordinate his movements. He hits Frank’s bed with the back of his knees, which give up and let him fall backwards. 

They both, as a whole, collide with the bed this time with a low thump. Frank squeaks a little; as if the fall was harsher then he’d thought it would be. 

Gerard figures everything out pretty fast; gets accustomed to the situation. Soon enough, within seconds, he straddles Frank’s hips and leans over him, attacking his lips once again. Frank’s mouth is hot, deep, welcoming. Frank’s tongue is Gerard’s, melting into it, dancing. Gerard can almost hear some beat music playing into this, to match their moves and feelings perfectly.

His hands wander down on their own. While Gerard’s busy leaving a wet trail down Frank’s jawline to the pumping vein on his neck, one of his palms rests on Frank’s belt and the other covers the bulge in his pants. He has seriously no idea where his courage is coming from, but it’s buzzing in his fingertips, sending shivers down his spine. He wants _everything_ and he wants it _now._

Gerard feels like both his hands are left when he tries to get Frank’s jeans open. He succeeds after an agonizing thirty seconds or so, almost tearing his nail off with the fly. Belts can be really tricky sometimes.

This time, Frank doesn’t protest and doesn’t try to stop Gerard when he pulls Frank’s pants down to his knees and shuffles on the bed to get lower – to get to Frank’s crotch.

He doesn’t stare, he doesn’t investigate. He would pretty much love to spend hours just examining Frank’s body, but he can’t right now. He tells himself – even though he doesn’t know if it’s not a lie – that he will get at least a dozen more chances to discover Frank’s curves and his belly and everything else that makes him so fucking perfect. Right now, he wants to make Frank feel good. It shouldn’t be different from the last time when he dropped down to his knees, but it is. 

This time, it’s completely selfish. Gerard doesn’t want to do it because it will make Frank come. He wants to do it because he knows it will _mean_ something to them both. He knows Frank will appreciate it – he knows he wouldn’t mind if Gerard changed his mind right now. It gives him some strange freedom; freedom that slowly creeps into his body and moves his limbs almost as if he was a puppet and his own feelings were the person tugging at his strings. Gerard feels controlled, but yet he feels in control. 

He strokes Frank’s thighs with his wet hands and rests them on his hipbones, hovering over Frank’s dick leaking with pre-come. He pokes out his tongue, touching the tip of Frank’s cock tentatively. The first taste is the most important. It’s where you can notice how the body reacts – Frank’s body jerked sub-consciously. It’s where you can learn something about the person’s hygiene – disgusting thought at times, but Frank tastes like soap or shampoo, but nothing too provocative, so it’s nice. It’s where you can feel if this is going to work – and considering that Gerard immediately wants to swallow him down and take Frank in as deep as he can, this is going to work pretty perfectly. 

Frank’s fingers tangle in Gerard’s hair as soon as Gerard takes Frank’s cock in his mouth and hollows his cheeks experimentally. He moves one hand from Frank’s hipbone to wrap it around the base of Frank’s dick, moving it up and down ever so slightly and smearing the pre-come mixed with Gerard’s saliva around. 

It’s amazing. Sucking Frank off is perfect; swallowing him down is perfect. The small noises Frank makes now and then make Gerard want to take him deeper, _deeper, deeper._ And it’s scary, because he never wanted anyone in his life this much – but Gerard embraces it.

He flicks his tongue around the tip for a few seconds, then licks down to Frank’s balls and back up, brushing his already swollen lips against the pink skin of Frank’s member. 

He goes further and further every time he goes down on him. Gerard’s gag reflex has always been a bitch, but he is so determined to fight it this time that he ends up with his nose buried in Frank’s pubic hair. He breathes Frank’s smell in – not because it’s the nicest thing ever, but because he wants to remember every single detail late at night when he’ll try to recall everything – and hollows his cheeks as he pulls away. 

Frank moans in desperation and tugs on Gerard’s hair rougher than he originally wanted to. But Gerard’s doesn’t mind – he moans back and digs his fingers into Frank’s skin.

Gerard’s jaw hurts after a few more minutes. He can tell Frank is close – his breathing is erratic, he obviously has problems with keeping himself down – even though Gerard would love him to fuck his mouth, but not this time, not when it’s this intimate, not when it’s their first time and everything’s just a trial – and he moans every few seconds.

Gerard sets up a quicker pace, bobbing his head and helping himself with his hands once again. With his free hand, he strokes Frank’s thigh, wandering with his hand up and down, tickling the skin on the inner side. And he has no idea how it is possible that he knows so much about what Frank likes, but he’s driving him crazy, he can tell. And when he tugs at Gerard’s hair – obviously a warning, that’s what they always do in movies – Gerard hesitates. Should he pull off?

_No fucking way._

He hollows his cheeks again, as strong as he can, and looks up. Frank manages to look back for about five more seconds before he squeezes his eyes shut and completely loses himself in the orgasm. 

Gerard lets him fuck his mouth through it. It’s short, quick thrusts that are not getting deeper than to the inner side of Gerard’s cheek – making the old wound bleed again. 

He can’t help but lick his lips when Frank pulls out, breathing heavily. It’s never felt so amazing to feel someone else on his lips. He can’t even cherish it, close his eyes and just take in what had just happened, when Frank makes grabby hands at him and then pulls him up for a kiss.

He pulls away the moment his tongue slips into Gerard’s mouth, panicking. “You taste like blood,” he breathes out and reaches out to touch Gerard’s cheek. “Have I-“

“No,” Gerard cuts him off immediately and smiles shyly. “I did it before, when I was nervous. When I didn’t know if… if this would ever happen.”

Frank sighs – but it sounds more like a tired moan he couldn’t form in his throat – and smiles. He leans closer again, kissing Gerard lazily.

Soon enough, they’re back with another make-out session. Gerard doesn’t really think it’s because Frank wants to pay him back somehow – it just feels so natural, to be like this, to kiss like this. He realizes what Frank’s got on his mind when he feels his hand slip behind the hem of his jeans, brushing the tip of Gerard’s cock with his fingertips.

“You don’t have to,” he sighs happily and one kiss Frank places on the corner of Gerard’s mouth is enough of a reassurance. Gerard can’t wait – it’s too much. He undoes his belt with more success than it went with Frank’s pants and sets himself free, finally.

Thank god, he can thrust into Frank’s hand all he wants. He’s not sure if he would be able to control himself if it was Frank’s mouth instead of his hands. All of his thoughts, though, are soon replaced by ah, yeah and _more,_ even though he’s not sure if he’s just thinking those words or if he’s actually saying them out loud. He, honestly, doesn’t give a damn. Because it’s Frank; it’s Frank and he lets Gerard bury his face in the crook of Frank’s neck, even though it’s wet with sweat. It’s Frank and he brings Gerard so much pleasure it’s almost unbearable. It’s Frank and he squeezes Gerard’s ass with his free hand, and it’s Frank and he makes Gerard come. It’s Frank and he doesn’t mind when Gerard bites him hard during the climax. 

It’s Frank and it’s also Gerard, and as they lay there afterwards, you couldn’t actually tell the difference between them.

***

They pretty much jump right into boyfriends-mode. Gerard’s life suddenly consists of morning lessons, smiling and spending all his free time with Frank (where ‘spending’ equals talking, hugging, staring at each other, cuddling and also exchanging blowjobs). Everyone seems to be genuinely happy – Gerard, Frank, Lindsey, Emilie… Well, everyone except Brendon.

A week or so after Gerard and Frank get together, Gerard’s getting ready for the evening. He walks out of the shower and wraps a towel (that’s got a little blue deer on it) around his waist. When he enters the bedroom, he suppresses a quiet gasp – Brendon’s casually sitting on Gerard’s bed, cross-legged. 

“Hi!” Brendon cheers happily with a bright smile spread all over his face. It’s still ridiculous how thrilled he is to meet Gerard every single time.

“How long have you been sitting here?” Gerard asks suspiciously and narrows his eyes.

Brendon waves his hand. “Don’t worry, kiddo. Not long enough to hear you sing.” He smirks and Gerard blushes immediately. Right, because he totally always wanted someone to hear him sing in a fucking shower. Now he can only hope he wasn’t chanting Frank’s name to some stupid, made up melody.

“How about privacy? Rings any bells?” Gerard mumbles and shuffles around the room to his closet. He always has troubles picking out what to wear – with Brendon distracting him, it won’t be made any easier. With a sigh, he starts rummaging through his clothes.

“I’m your guide, we need to communicate,” Brendon points out and jumping off the bed, he hops to Gerard’s side and lurks over his shoulder. 

“Yeah. And showing up randomly in the middle of my room while I’m taking a shower will totally make me want to communicate,” Gerard snorts and with a quiet, happy squeak, he grabs his Black Flag t-shirt. That brings nice memories and Gerard’s pretty sure Frank will like it.

“You’re mean,” Brendon complains and rests his chin on Gerard’s shoulder. “I tried knocking four times this week! But you’re always somewhere else with your _boyfriend.”_

Brendon’s chin is cold and it distracts Gerard even more than Brendon himself. Why is Brendon’s touch always like an ice-cube falling on his skin? Is it because souls are, in the end, cold? That thought is unsettling. Brendon is amazing, but maybe, if someone took his personality away, only an empty, snowy shell would remain. Or does personality equal soul? Are those two too connected to ever part and leave only a screaming soul out there? 

“But you know where I am anyway. You could just find me and talk to me, you know?” He sighs, feeling the guilt slowly creeping up on him. He truly doesn’t want Brendon to feel like this – neglected, maybe? – but what’s going on between him and Frank is too overwhelming. He’s got a _boyfriend!_ Gerard’s got a boyfriend that doesn’t want him just for the sex. And if they’re not together, Gerard’s busy pushing away every thought of his next life and forgetting Frank forever.

“Duh,” Brendon rolls his eyes, “I’d rather not interrupt you. Who knows what you might be up to.”

Gerard blushes and drops his gaze. With his Black Flag t-shirt in hands, he closes the closet door and heads back to the bathroom, making Brendon pull away.

As some sort of revenge, Gerard smirks before he enters the room and says, “Well, maybe you should find Pete and communicate with _him.”_

***

Later, when they’re snuggled up in Frank’s bed next to each other, Gerard sighs and utters, “I’m not cold, am I?”

“What?” Frank asks and looks down at his boyfriend with a confused look on his face.

“I mean,” Gerard blinks a few times and twines their fingers, staring at the connection. “When Brendon hugs me or just touches me… it’s cold. It’s different. Like… like water. But cold. And it makes me think… are souls cold? Am I cold?”

“Am _I_ cold?” Frank questions back almost immediately, as Gerard’s hand squeezes his. 

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re not cold either. You’re actually the warmest teddy-bear I’ve ever had, so,” he giggles and after a few seconds, he manages to climb onto Gerard and cover his body completely. Gerard laughs and wraps his arms around Frank’s back to keep him safely on his chest. “Now would I do this if you weren’t warm? You’re hot.”

And Gerard tries not to think, _why couldn’t I meet you when I was still alive?_ and _Why did I feel dead my whole life and why do I feel alive now with you?_

***

They fight on rare occasions. Those are fights that last for fifteen minutes and often end up in a furious make-out session. Obviously, they don’t fight over anything serious. They fight over favorite movies, fictional characters, music, school stuff (and there’s also one fight about the French revolution in the eighteenth century, but that’s not serious as well).

Gerard doesn’t expect them to fight for real. He supposes that they’re both mature enough to value the time they’ve got. It’s not much and therefore, he assumes, they should make the best of it. They definitely shouldn’t waste it fighting. 

That’s a huge mistake, though.

A few times, they end up getting naked. It – quite logically – leads to blowjobs, but… after some time, that’s not enough. There are whispers and then Frank says, “I want you,” in a needy voice and Gerard’s desperate.

Even if they wanted to have sex without condoms… because honestly, what could possibly happen in afterlife? Well, even if they didn’t care about this, there was still one issue left. They would need lube. There was no way they could have sex without lube and make it… sort of loving. Of course, they could do it the rough way or with fingers (and minutes and hours of preparation), but Gerard sort of wants to do it right. He’d never done it right and if they fix that, he won’t remember it for a long time, but it would mean a hell of a lot to him. 

“What’s wrong with your fingers? Are all of them fucking broken?” Frank spits out and pulls his t-shirt back on. Yeah, no way they can go back to cuddling now.

“But you’re not a one night stand!” Gerard argues indignantly. He sits up on his bed – because they’re in his room this time – and tries to avoid Frank’s messed-up hair when he glares at him. He needs to stay slightly mad and stand up for himself. That’s another thing he’s not used to doing, but he has to.

“Jesus Christ, I know that!” Frank is clearly pissed. His hard-on is still quite visible, even though he’s put also his jeans back on. Gerard quickly does the same so he’s not naked like Adam. 

“Why can’t we do it the right way?” Gerard tries again, lowering the volume of his voice. He so doesn’t want to fight, but he can already see it’s heading towards exactly that. Gerard remembers – and he has also learnt this from being around Frank for quite some time now – how passionate Frank is. That could come in handy, but it could also ruin lots of things.

“What the fuck is the right way? There’s nothing wrong about using fingers!”

“I need motherfucking lube,” Gerard hisses through his gritted teeth, because this is when he loses it. He just loses control; kind of sick of explaining himself in such a matter. Why doesn’t Frank understand that? “I’m not fucking you until we have lube.”

Frank opens his mouth to say something, but after Gerard adds the second sentence, his lips purse instead, forming a strict line. He narrows his eyes and he looks almost dangerous, staring at Gerard and hypnotizing him for a good twenty seconds.

Then Frank circles the bed to get to Gerard – they’re both standing now and the tension hangs in the air like mistletoe at Christmas – and pokes him with his pointy forefinger. “And who says,” Frank starts off and pokes Gerard again, “that _you_ are fucking _me?_ When did we have a conversation about that? Because I can’t fucking recall it!”

Gerard blinks a few times and if he could take a step back, he definitely would – but he would just hit the bed and fall down onto it.

“I- I assumed that-“ he stutters and falls silent right after that. Okay, so maybe he crossed the line. He obviously did. But if he’s honest with himself, he really assumed that Frank was a bottom. 

It’s always Gerard straddling Frank’s hips. It’s always Frank writhing under Gerard’s body, whatever it is that they’re doing. Well, except when Frank sucks Gerard off, but that’s irrelevant now and – well. It’s just something about Frank. Gerard might not be able to read minds, but he feels really close to Frank, and it’s just – it’s something in the way Frank moves, in the way he acts when they’re in bed. It makes Gerard think that he likes to take it rather than be on the other end. 

“Well, you were wrong,” Frank grumbles sarcastically and practically storms out the room. He even leaves his hoodie there – lying on the floor near Gerard’s bed. It saddens him more than anything else in the world – it’s like a thorn right in his eye; something that reminds him that he pissed Frank off so much he had to run away, or worse things would happen. 

He’s not sure if it’s entirely his fault, though. He actually feels like Frank is equally guilty and if they’re enemies, Frank is just as strong as Gerard.

Frank, though, obviously has a better personality. Not even an hour later, he knocks on Gerard’s door and when he opens it, Frank’s got an apologetic look on his face. 

“So maybe you weren’t wrong,” Frank admits and drops his gaze, looking down at his shoelaces. “I… I lost control over my emotions and I’m sorry. It kind of took me off guard when I realized how easily you can read me.”

“You’re not exactly trying to hide anything from me, you know? And I notice things. I’ve always known how to notice things.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Frank repeats sadly and reaches out to catch Gerard’s hand in his. 

“Don’t be,” Gerard mutters as his palm meets Frank’s halfway. “I’m sorry, too. I should have explained myself and not started yelling about fucking. That was awful.”

“It kind of was,” Frank agrees but from the way he squeezes Gerard’s fingers and laughs it all off only a few seconds later is a huge relief. Gerard lets out a breath – almost as if he’d been holding it since Frank ran out of the room – and gives a lop-sided grin. 

“I bet you’re here just because you forgot your hoodie here,” Gerard comments, impatient to see if they’re ready to joke around or if it’s going to be awkward for a few more minutes. 

Fortunately, Frank laughs and steps closer, casually resting both his hands on Gerard’s hips. “Of course. Because it’s the hoodie I can’t live without, not you. Not at all.” Frank rolls his eyes, but there’s still a smile dancing on his lips. 

Gerard reaches up with his hand and brushes a few lost locks of Frank’s dark hair from his face. “Are you implying that you can’t live without me?” Gerard suggests and even though there’s a happy, agreeing spark flashing through Frank’s eyes, he shakes his head.

“I can live without anything, but I really need that hoodie,” Frank sighs and even finds the object on the floor, looking at it longingly. 

“Have your hoodie then!” Gerard acclaims dramatically and takes a step away from Frank, sitting down on the bed and facing the wall. He lets his shoulders fall a bit to increase the drama, but he’s not surprised at all when Frank jumps on the bed from behind and throws his arms around Gerard’s neck, pulling him closer. They both laugh when Frank bites at Gerard’s earlobe playfully.

“Fuck the hoodie, I decided I want _you,”_ Frank exclaims and when Gerard turns his head around to face Frank completely, their lips collide. They’re both so young – too young to be here, really – and so capable of forgiveness… that it’s kind of beautiful. And if someone watched them – and maybe someone watches them all with careful eyes – they would see two boys having fun; and also two boys fighting for the best thing that has ever happened to both of them. 

They somehow manage to get on the floor with Frank sitting comfortably in Gerard’s lap. It’s a true wonder – how they got to this position. 

“So, what are we going to do about our situation?” Frank asks after a few more moments of lazy making out. Gerard raises an eyebrow at him, which only gets him Frank rolling his eyes in response. “I mean, about the whole making love thing. I get it that you want to do it right, but – how could we get lube here?”

Gerard shrugs and looks away. “Maybe,” he takes a deep breath, “you could ask Jamia to get it for you?”

And here comes the second round of their fight, which Gerard hasn’t expected at all.

“Have you gone mad?” Frank squeaks in a high-pitched voice and fidgets uncomfortably. “I would never, ever, ask a woman that’s as old as Jamia – and also such an asshole – to get me lube. Never.”

“Well, I can’t talk to Brendon,” Gerard defends himself and fidgets as well. “He’s a guy. And I have no idea if he’s straight or if he’s not – but I am not. Asking. Him. No way. How could you expect me to ask a _guy_ to get a tube of lube for me?”

“So you’re saying that it’s okay if I ask this of my _female_ guide, but you can’t talk to a guy about it?” Frank snorts and as he gets up – with Gerard following him within three seconds – he brings the same old tension back. Gerard doesn’t like this at all, but just as before, he can’t stop himself now. He just can’t keep his mouth shut even though he really wants to. The anger – maybe some of it is leftovers from their previous fight – is thumping in his veins instead of blood.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” he answers louder than he wants to. It’s astonishing how quickly they manage to go from happy and in love to mad and furious. If there’s a God, then he must be shaking his head at them. “Is it really too much to ask of you? I really have a problem with talking about this to guys, why can’t you just get it and make this stupid little sacrifice?”

“You don’t have a problem talking about _this,”_ Frank snorts, “You have problem with everything you gotta do on your own. You hide in your little shell all the fucking time and if someone doesn’t approve, if someone wants you to participate on something, you’re on fire. Not in the good sense.”

“I lost you at I-don’t-want-to-get-you-so-I-accuse-you-of-made-up-shit,” Gerard snaps and sits down on his bed, biting his lip. There he goes, crossing the line in every possible way for the second time in one afternoon. If he wasn’t in afterlife, this would be the right time to kill himself again. Before he can stand up again and start saying sorry over and over again just for the sake of it, Frank sighs loudly.

“Maybe it’s not meant to happen,” he utters under his breath. It makes Gerard fucking _panic._ He shoots Frank a shocked look, almost as if he thought he’d misheard something, but Frank looks tired. “We don’t even want to fight for it. It’s like we’re stuck. And we don’t have the time to be stuck.”

And it hurts. It hurts because Frank is right and Gerard doesn’t like what he’s saying at all. If they were in a normal relationship, it could take them months until they’ve decided to have sex. And then they would just go to some shop around the corner and buy condoms and lube. It wouldn’t be a problem at all. Like this, they have weeks – if they’re optimistic. A few weeks and that’s all. They won’t have a sequel; not even a short epilogue. They can’t even figure out how to have sex. It stings and hurts and pains that maybe they’re not meant to be, and Gerard honestly has no idea how Frank was able to say those words out loud. 

“I’m sorry. I’m a complete fuck-up,” Gerard whispers and runs his fingers through his hair. He’s quiet, but he really wants to scream and shout and tell the whole world about how unfair this whole thing is. They don’t deserve this.

“We’re all fuck-ups here. It’s about how you deal with that fact.”

***

After what Gerard calls an epilogue to their fight, neither of them apologize. It’s not necessary – what had been told is completely true and they both know it. They drop the issue and eventually go back to cuddling and simply spending time together, even though there’s still the same unspoken question and Gerard knows that the want hiding in their bodies will reveal itself again, sooner or later.

He wants to be prepared for that. Just like he couldn’t come up with anything while talking about it, the time he spends thinking about it brings the wanted solution. 

One thought joins another, associations work perfectly, and there – Gerard thinks of Lindsey and of that one time when he called her a dude. And he is suddenly sure that she wouldn’t have a problem getting lube for them. Of course, he would have to ask her and she would make fun of him for the rest of their stay here, but Gerard’s willing to take these consequences. He needs to pull his shit together and do something, or he might as well go crazy. 

It’s only a few days after the fight when Gerard spots Lindsey at lunch and hurries towards her with his food with more enthusiasm than is usual. 

“Have you turned into a leprechaun?” she greets him with a smirk and stuffs a spoonful of peas into her mouth.

“Yeah, hello to you too,” he comments sarcastically, falling down on the chair beside her. “And, what the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Lindsey shrugs carelessly, “Aren’t leprechauns supposed to be happy and excited all the time? Or is that dwarves?” 

When she frowns and actually stops eating to think about this dilemma, Gerard tilts his head to the side and actually stares dumbly at her for a few seconds. Honestly, he has no idea how Lindsey is real. She is literally too precious. 

“Anyway,” he murmurs and finally manages to stop staring. His face flushes before he can even open his mouth. Taking the fork in his hand and playing with the food on his plate absently, he hums and adds, “I kinda need something from you.” 

“Of course you do,” Lindsey nods, like she knows everything. “So spit it out.”

Gerard fidgets in his seat and looks down. “I’m trying to figure out how to put this,” he murmurs anxiously and he’s pretty sure that his face is as red as the circles on Captain America’s shield. 

“Well,” she says thoughtfully and looks Gerard up and down. “According to your blush, it’s got something to do with your tattooed midget – and I mean it in the best way possible! And I’d do anything to keep your love life safe, even record a sex tape for you, if you asked real nicely, so… Just spit it out.” Before Gerard can open his mouth and speak for himself, Lindsey waves her hand and adds quickly, “Wait, no, that’s bullshit. I wouldn’t do that for you, but everything else is fine.”

Gerard settles down and tries to calm down, picking at the hem of his black t-shirt. “We want to… take another step. Like, we… we want to… have sex?” His voice sub-consciously makes a question out of it and he takes a peek at Lindsey’s amused face.

“Breaking news. I’ve never had homo sex, you know? So if you want help with this…”

Gerard raises an eyebrow at her and actually gains some of his confidence back. “Okay, Linds, that’s not what I was leading up to,” he points out and tries to kill the mental image of Lindsey fucking a random guy with a strap-on. He shudders. 

“You’re avoiding the subject, though,” Lindsey answers and she’s obviously starting to get annoyed – considering she picks up her spoon again and attacks her salad. 

“Why sorry, it’s not so easy to ask you to get me lube,” he says quickly through his gritted teeth and waits for the wave of shame to bring him down. He kind of expects her to make fun of him. He expects her to make stupid, ridiculous jokes and address all of them to him in a way. He expects to hear laughter; but when he looks up, Lindsey is staring at him with a blank expression on her face.

“What did you just say,” she manages to choke out, and even though it’s obviously a question, her voice is a transformed poker face. It has no specific tone, it’s deadly serious and it makes Gerard feel utterly small in her eyes.

He has no idea where the courage in him is coming from, but he repeats himself. “I said we need lube and we are… we’re kind of reluctant to ask our guides.”

“What in hell makes you think _I_ am okay with it?” she asks in a high-pitched voice, almost as if she was panicking. Maybe she’s got the same problem with mental images. Maybe, Gerard and Frank are having sex in her mind at the moment. That’s what kind of sucks about minds; at any mention of sex, you just have to imagine that person doing it. It creeps into your mind on its own, not because you want to think about it, and then it’s weirdly difficult to erase that image from your head. Impossible, even. 

“Because you’re a dude,” he admits and shrugs his shoulders. It’s true, but he doesn’t mean it in a bitter way or as an insult. Lindsey is still a beautiful girl, but she’s just… sort of different. She’s strange. She’s open-minded, sincere, she doesn’t fuck around. If she hates you, she will say it out loud right to your face (even though that’s only if you provoke it). 

“If you don’t stop saying that, I will cut your balls off,” she says, disgusted. Gerard manages to read _‘Thank you for the lovely compliment, sir’_ somewhere between lines. 

“If I promise I’ll call you a lady whenever I get a chance, will you do it for us? We are – I am desperate,” he admits. And he really wants to use plural, but – he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if Frank is still desperate to have sex, if he still wants him. And on other hand, Frank doesn’t even know that Gerard is having this sort of conversation with Lindsey. Frank would maybe call it cowardice, but who cares anymore? Gerard doesn’t, that’s for sure.

“I hate you,” Lindsey murmurs, but the grin gives her away. Gerard really wants to say something like ‘You’re so easily corrupted’, but he manages to control himself even though there’s a dangerous amount of happiness bubbling inside of him. 

“You love me,” Gerard giggles and spontaneously reaches out to catch her hand. “But really, you are the most perfect lady _ever.”_

“Fuck you,” she laughs and actually slaps his hand away before catching it and squeezing it again. “So, when do you need it?”

***

Gerard, of course, needs it as soon as possible and even though he doesn’t say it out loud, Lindsey gets the message. It’s still a surprise, though, when they randomly meet the next day and she tells him she’s got it.

After lunch, she drags Gerard to her room and she rummages through her things while Gerard’s standing near her awkwardly. It’s like she tried to hide it, even though she wasn’t supposed to keep it for more time than necessary. It just proves Gerard right – getting lube, asking someone to buy it; that’s embarrassing. 

Even Lindsey blushes when she hands the small tube over, and drops her gaze down. “You’re lucky that I have such an amazing guide,” she murmurs and the moment Gerard takes the lube from her, she rubs her palms against her jeans, as if it’s poisoned and one touch could kill you. 

“Aren’t all guides here really amazing?” Gerard replies and gets an angry glare in response. 

“Shut up, mine is super amazing.” Gerard giggles and nods – they both relax and Lindsey actually returns the smile shyly. It is, in the end, a clear proof that no matter what, a girl is always a girl, even when she acts like a dude half the time. 

Lindsey is not the type of person that lets you close to them. She keeps everything to herself and Gerard thinks – he basically knows this for sure, because he’d been the same person back on Earth, but he’s got Frank to change him completely and Lindsey doesn’t – that she would show the gentle side of her personality only to someone who would truly love her – in a relationship, not just in a friendship. She likes to seem strong and Gerard is not going to take that from her. It’s her decision. 

“Anyway,” he sighs and hides the small lube in the back pocket of his pants, “thank you so, so much. I owe you.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles and since it’s not a sarcastic smart-ass remark, Gerard knows she actually means this.

He leans in and pulls her into a hug, sliding both his hands down her back. She gives the hug back and squeezes Gerard for a second. As they pull away, though, of course there’s the exact remark he’s been waiting for.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing, since you wanted lube but forgot to mention condoms.”

***

Gerard’s original plan is to wait for the right moment, then lead the conversation gently to the subject of their intimate life and explain everything to Frank. But, of course, everything happens differently.

Not because there’s no such thing as a ‘right moment’, but because Gerard is too excited to hold back. The moment he sees Frank that evening, without much explanation, he throws himself at him and presses his lips roughly against Frank’s. 

Frank is taken aback, which is no surprise, so Gerard manages to calm down a bit and climb off of Frank, creating a polite distance between them. Frank’s lips that are wet with Gerard’s saliva now are still kind of tempting, though. 

“You alright?” Frank asks confusedly and frowns a bit. It’s not like they don’t greet each other with a kiss, but this is a bit too much, even Gerard must admit that. 

“I got us something,” Gerard acclaims, sounding almost proud. He just can’t help it. 

All of a sudden, he’s sure everything will go fine. He has no idea why he feared Frank’s rejection before. How could he think that he wouldn’t want to have sex now? That’s ridiculous. Frank was Gerard and Gerard was Frank, no matter what they did or what they fought about, they were pretty much the same person and Gerard realized they shared the same emotions. And if every time Gerard looked at Frank and wanted to rip his clothes off of him, then it must mean that Frank wants to do the exact same thing. And Gerard’s okay with that.

“What are you talking about?” It’s obvious how much Frank wants to hide his curiosity and how much he actually fails at it.

Gerard grins and stuffs his hand into his back pocket, wrapping his fingers around the tube. It’s warm from being pressed against his ass and that’s quite obscene as he thinks about it, but he mentally shrugs it off and pulls it out, handing it to Frank. 

Frank takes it reluctantly and turns the tube over to see what it says. Gerard can tell when Frank gets to the part where it says ‘efficient lubricating gel’; his eyes widen and he shoots a quick look at Gerard before reading the rest. When he looks up, the emotions on his face are quite mixed.

“You got us… you got us lube,” he states slowly as if he was unsure that he isn’t hallucinating. Then a smile spreads across his face and with the tube still in his hands, he closes the gap between them and covers Gerard in a hug. “How perfect are you?” 

“Well, actually, Lindsey got it, but that counts as well, huh?” he muffles into the fabric of Frank’s t-shirt with a small smile and hugs Frank back, melting into the touch like a happy pet. 

After a moment, Frank pulls away and stares at Gerard with a question in his eyes. Eventually, he even opens his mouth and whispers, “You wanna?”

And _yes, yes, yes, yes._ “Yes,” Gerard breathes out, feeling something heavy fall off his chest. No, he doesn’t need sex to be perfectly happy in a relationship. He would be pretty fucking satisfied with just staring at Frank for hours and talking with him about everything. 

It’s that they _can_ have sex and that they _want to_. When Gerard fantasizes about Frank and how his skin would feel against his, he knows he wants that. He’s not scared of it. They don’t necessarily need it, but they want it and they’re not scared of it. It’s not shallow – actually, it seems to mean a fucking lot to both of them. There’s this small part of Gerard that is a bit scared Frank will turn him down after this and will leave in the morning. But the bigger part, the important part of him; it knows Frank will still be there and there’s nothing else holding him back from nodding and exposing himself completely, ready to give and to receive. 

“Me too,” Frank adds and smiles, cuddling against Gerard’s body again.

Gerard doesn’t know what to expect now. Should they just get naked and continue from there? He knows he would rather go slowly, though, and there’s no force to stop him from what he wants.

He leans down and sliding both his hands under Frank’s t-shirt, he presses his lips against the skin on Frank’s neck. Frank shivers under Gerard’s fingertips and tilts his head more to the side, giving Gerard more space. 

Gerard caresses the skin on Frank’s back, trailing the line of his spine, up and down and up and down, and eventually stops kissing Frank’s neck, using his tongue instead. The warmth is enough for Frank to pull away and search for Gerard’s mouth with his own. 

When they kiss, it’s actually slower than Gerard expected it to be, but he doesn’t mind. At first, they discover each other again. Moving their lips against each other, getting used to the touch as if it was the first time they’ve kissed. Frank licks at Gerard’s bottom lip carefully, tracing his tongue all over it, from one side to another, placing a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

Gerard opens his mouth slightly as an invite, which Frank takes immediately and slides his tongue over Gerard’s parted lips. Gerard shudders and his knees go weak; he presses himself against Frank’s body to keep his balance, to prevent himself from helplessly falling down – because he fell for Frank already and that’s enough falling for a lifetime. 

Slowly, he catches the hem of Frank’s t-shirt between his fingers again and pulls it up, until it’s rolled up to Frank’s armpits. He takes a moment to appreciate Frank’s partly naked chest – stroking his sides, his hips, resting his hand for a moment on Frank’s belly. Only then he breaks the kiss and Frank stretches his hands upwards so Gerard can make a quick process with his t-shirt. 

It would feel great to feel Frank’s naked skin, but it wouldn’t be enough. Quickly, before they can kiss again and get lost in it, Gerard pulls his own t-shirt over his head and throws it in an unknown direction.

Their lips collide much more furiously this time. Gerard cups Frank’s cheek with one hand, while he rests the other on Frank’s hip. He honestly can’t wait to get rid of their pants as well, but kissing the life out of Frank – not literally, though, that wouldn’t even be possible – seems more important. Frank digs his fingers into Gerard’s skin and drags them down, leaving a red mark on Gerard’s shoulder blades. 

Gerard keeps his eyes closed, but he can imagine what Frank looks like right now. He can imagine his shiny, wet lips; he can imagine his squeezed eyes; he can imagine how his hair is all messed up already, because Frank is so fucking fragile. All of the things he can imagine – all of the things that are actually happening right now – make him moan low in his throat and grind against Frank. 

Their crotches meet for a brief moment, but they have enough time to realize they’re both hard and it makes everything even more frantic. Gerard loses control over his hands. He doesn’t know if he should fight Frank’s belt again or pay attention to his own – and Frank decides that for him when there’s a click echoing through the room and he breaks the kiss again to pull his pants down, stepping out of them. Gerard takes the chance immediately and unbuttons his jeans with trembling fingers. While he rolls his pants down to his ankles and steps out of them just like Frank did, he realizes how fast his heart is beating. It’s a race and he knows he could easily end up dead if he couldn’t hold Frank in his arms right now. 

They stumble to the bed, tripping on their own feet. Frank’s the first one to fall down on the bed and he spread his legs for Gerard right away.

It’s comical how perfectly they match. When Gerard finds a comfortable position between Frank’s legs – which is almost immediately – they really are like two pieces of puzzle. That’s what pops up in Gerard’s mind, no matter how cheesy it is. 

Gerard is usually into talking a lot, but he hardly says anything now. Frank’s beauty and everything Frank’s doing to him shuts him up. It’s like he can’t think of the right words, so he chooses to stay silent.

He keeps to that decision as long as their erections don’t touch again, which happens… well, soon. They’re still wearing underwear, so there’s the fabric keeping them from skin-on-skin connection. 

Gerard becomes impatient as minutes go by. He gets annoyed with Frank’s underwear and constantly tugs at it, trying to roll it down to get a few more inches of Frank’s naked skin. 

“Just tear them off or something,” Frank whines and it’s the first thing he says since they started kissing. Gerard obeys more than willingly, grabbing the hem of Frank’s boxers again and rolling them down. He leaves them at Frank’s ankles – he kicks them off on his own. Gerard wants to marvel at Frank’s body. He wants to appreciate every single inch of it; he wants to touch every single place and every single curve. He wants to get lost in Frank’s stomach; he wants to disappear in Frank’s hair; he wants to get trapped between his legs; he wants to vanish under the weight of his kisses. 

Instead, he simply crawls back up and hovers over Frank’s body. “Do the same for me?” he whispers into Frank’s ear breathlessly and Frank takes the chance.

His fingers are trembling as well, Gerard realizes as Frank trails them down Gerard’s stomach to the hem of his underwear. He can’t even contemplate whether he wants Frank to tease him, to make the want almost unbearable, or if he wants him to literally tear the underwear apart. 

Frank is in charge in this, though. He settles for something in-between – rolling the hem down a bit, just to set Gerard’s hard-on free. The cold air of the room surrounds it for a moment, before Frank’s fingers wrap around his dick and give a squeeze.

Gerard, instead of throwing his head back in pleasure, burrows his face in the crook of Frank’s neck and gasps. A realization hits him; he wants this. He wants anything Frank is willing to give him and he will be happy about it. He _knows_ this, like he knows two and two equals four. It’s as simple as that.

He wishes he could stop Frank. He wishes he had the power to say something, a warning that if Frank doesn’t stop, Gerard will shamelessly come all over his hand within minutes and he won’t even regret it. But he can’t. Gerard seems to be under a spell – a spell that allows him only to talk dirty, lick, kiss and bite.

And so he bites Frank on his shoulder carefully and then breathes out as Frank’s fingers slide down Gerard’s cock to the base. “Where’s the… where’s the lube?” he stutters in desperation and Frank sighs.

“I think I dropped it, fuck,” he swears under his breath and as if he’s gone mad, he pulls away and everything gets kind of awkward for a second. Frank tries to get from under Gerard’s body and Gerard holds him down, pressing at his shoulder.

“No, wait, I’ll get it,” he reassures him and even though he really doesn’t want to, he climbs off of Frank and of the bed. His vision is blurry, or at least it feels that way when he tries to spot the tube somewhere without much success. After what feels like minutes but is probably just seconds, he finally sees it lying on the floor, partly covered by Frank’s underwear. 

He stumbles over his own feet as he takes a few steps to take it. Before he retreats back to bed, he steps out of his boxers with a deep exhale. He feels Frank’s eyes on his body and one part of him is honestly ashamed of what he looks like. Red blush covers his face as he joins Frank on the sheets and only Frank’s soothing fingers have the ability to scare every fear away. With his eyes closed and with Frank’s hands all over him, Gerard is able to let go and fight the shame. He’s got nothing to be ashamed of. Frank likes his body; he needs to believe that, no matter how hard it seems.

For a moment, Gerard doesn’t know what to do next. He’s used to being the one getting fucked from the back, with not much feeling invested. 

Of course, with Frank it’s different. Everything is different with him, and it feels great; even though Gerard is unsure of what to do half the fucking time. 

“What do you want me to do?” he mutters, because it’s the only logical thing he can come up with. He traces his lips against the skin on Frank’s shoulder, not even aware of leaving a wet mark behind. 

Frank tangles his fingers in Gerard’s hair and tugs at it gently. “Just touch me. Do whatever the fuck you want to do, because I’m yours.” And Gerard has no idea how Frank is able to form a sentence like that, but it means fucking everything. Something squeezes in his lungs and his heart skips a beat; and even though he’s not quite able to say anything back because everything else is too damn overwhelming, he knows this is prettier than a simple ‘I love you’. 

Gerard takes Frank’s beauty in; or he at least tries to. He wanders his hands down Frank’s sides and licks his way down from Frank’s jawline to his neck. For a second, he comes back up and takes Frank’s upper lip between his teeth, pulling at it and making Frank whine. 

He lowers his head then, brushing his lips against the Adam’s apple. All he wants to do, honestly, is to dig his fingers deep into the skin on Frank’s hips, but he takes his time and circles his tongue around his nipples, playing with them and taking them in his mouth. The skin there is smooth and tempting and pleasurably hot and Gerard’s teeth leave it swollen when he finally moves down to Frank’s belly. 

Gerard doesn’t stay there for too long, though. His fingers – moving on their own again – find Frank’s cock and as they wrap around it, Gerard realizes it’s leaking with pre-come. And he, himself, is almost on the edge and they’re still just fucking _touching_ each other. To feel Frank’s fingers scratch his back is pretty much perfect, though; Gerard’s not going to lie about that.

“I want to suck you off so badly,” he whines as he licks a long stripe down Frank’s hip. Gerard doesn’t even realize he says it out loud until Frank writhes under him and fists the sheets, arching his back a bit.

“I so want you to,” he moans in response and if he says one word, Gerard will do it. He will throw away every fantasy of them having sex for now and take Frank in his mouth – one word would make him do it. But Frank shakes his head and tugs at Gerard’s hair again, this time a bit stronger. “But not now.” 

“No?” Gerard whines, sounding almost disappointed. 

“Don’t make me reject it again,” Frank breathes out. “I want… I need something else now,” he adds and swallows loudly, making Gerard look up at him. 

Frank’s gorgeous with his eyes shut tight and Gerard would love to spend minutes staring at him, but on the other hand, he really doesn’t want to stop touching him. He leans down again, kissing Frank’s inner thigh with as much patience as he can. “What do you need?” he whispers innocently. 

“I can’t,” Frank starts off and swallows again. He searches for Gerard’s hand on the bed, catching it and squeezing his fingers. “This is what I need. I can’t even… I can’t even say it out loud.” 

Gerard groans low in his throat and presses his forehead against Frank’s hip for a second, just to feel the heat and to get ready for what’s about to happen. He squeezes Frank’s fingers back, then, and pulls away, searching for the tube of lube. He finds it rather quickly, and only when he pops the tube open, the first wave of nervousness attacks him fiercely. What if something goes wrong? He shakes his head, as if to get rid of those thoughts, and kneels in front of Frank’s spread legs. 

To get better access to Frank’s ass – however awful that sounds in Gerard’s head – he quickly supports Frank’s lower back with a pillow.

Gerard gets lost in preparing Frank almost immediately. Frank makes these little sounds every time Gerard moves his fingers, thrusts them out or back in. He can almost feel the burning sensation; it’s reflecting on Frank’s slightly flushed face. After a few minutes, Frank is able to open his eyes and find Gerard’s. From that moment on, they keep the eye contact for as long as possible, while Gerard is making scissors with his fingers. The lube helps a lot, there’s no doubt about that. Gerard helps too, squeezing Frank’s cock now and then absently with his free hand.

Eventually, Frank makes grabby hands at him and Gerard, getting the message, leans close to Frank’s face with his fingers still buried deep in Frank’s ass. 

“What?” Gerard breathes out and sucks at the skin on Frank’s mouth, then cuddles into it, not even willing to move anymore. His fingers move, though; he lazily pulls them out of Frank and then thrusts them back in again, and this goes on repeat in a slow pace. It’s driving even Gerard crazy; he’s got no idea how Frank must feel. 

“I’m ready,” Frank mumbles and pulls Gerard in for a kiss. 

Gerard pretty much just keeps his mouth open while Frank thrusts his tongue in and out, mixing their saliva and making the most precious little sounds in his throat. Meanwhile, he pulls out his fingers and smears probably more lube than necessary all over his dick. He really needs to fight the urge to keep touching himself, but he wins in the end and has to pull away from Frank’s mouth to actually enter him.

It’s awkward – at least for Gerard – and he’s never done it before, this is the first time. With the base in his hand, he clutches Frank’s hip with the other one and pushes inside. He manages to press only the tip of his cock into Frank’s ass when he’s got to stop for a second and just breathe.

Frank’s hole is wet, slippery, hot and perfect. It feels completely different than it felt when it was his fingers inside of him. It’s way warmer and it’s almost too much. But when Frank whines and grips Gerard’s hip, Gerard startles awake and finally moves again. He pushes all the way inside this time. Frank bites down on his lower lip and Gerard leans down, cupping his cheeks and kissing him slowly to ease any pain he might have caused. 

It would be incredibly hard not to move too quickly, but it’s almost impossible not to move at all. Still, Gerard waits for Frank to nod and rest his hands on Gerard back, wrapping his legs around his waist. 

Still kissing, Gerard slowly moves in Frank and pulls half the way out. Frank lets out a deep breath, like he’d been holding it for minutes and it vibrates all around Gerard’s mouth. Gerard thrusts back in, holding up on one hand while he’s still stroking Frank’s cheek with the other one. 

Eventually, he quickens his pace and is more than happy to feel Frank move to meet him halfway. He really wants to tell Frank how hot he looks. He would love to say all of the dirty talk he’s heard in porn (which he watched even though he’d never admit it in front of anyone), but he can’t. Frank takes his breath away. He takes it away with every quiet moan; with the way he clings onto Gerard like he’s afraid he might disappear; with the way he runs his fingers through Gerard’s hair. 

After a few more moments, when Frank moves on the bed with every thrust because they are more furious now; and when sweat starts to form on their foreheads, Frank smiles and breathes out, “You’re fucking glowing.”

And, of course it’s metaphorical. Of course it is. But it still makes Gerard shiver and he attacks Frank’s lips with new energy and doing that, he even manages to trail his hand down Frank’s chest to his cock, holding it for a few seconds before squeezing it a bit.

Frank writhes under him and hugs Gerard with his legs even more. Gerard’s lost in Frank; literally and not. 

After that, they finally lose control. The only thing Gerard manages to say – and Frank as well, actually – is ‘fuck’ on repeat. They both moan and there’s sweat dripping off his forehead, falling down on Frank’s. They’re a mess of limbs and emotions and they can’t even kiss anymore. Dark locks of Frank’s hair are glued to each other, forming a strange crown around his head on the bed. The pillow Gerard used to support Frank’s back with has fallen away; none of them notices. 

“I-“ Gerard stutters out with his lips pressed against Frank’s cheek awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Frank moans back and digs his fingers into Gerard’s shoulder, almost deep enough to draw blood. “Yeah, fuck,” he whimpers when Gerard hits his prostate more than three times in a row.

“I’m – so fucking close –“ Gerard continues and starts to jerk Frank off in a messed-up, almost nonexistent quick pace. 

“Me too,” Frank cries out and almost as if he had planned it, he comes hard all over Gerard’s hand and his own stomach. Every muscle in his body squeezes – even the one around Gerard’s cock. It takes only a few more thrusts for Gerard to follow Frank, practically collapsing on top of him.

Every single muscle in Gerard’s body is trembling, shaking. He wouldn’t be able to get up right now, even if the apocalypse started. He’s not even capable of sitting up or rolling off of Frank’s body. They’re pressed against each other, it’s sticky and awful… but it’s them. Gerard doesn’t even want to move; he would be happy to die here, in Frank’s arms, just touching him and feeling the rise and fall of Frank’s chest with every breath he takes. 

And what does one say after such an experience? Words are unimportant, but he needs to say something. After he regains the ability to actually talk, Gerard looks up and rests his chin on Frank’s chest. 

“Yeah?” Frank smiles lazily as he plays with Gerard’s hair, twirling it around his fingers.

“Nothing,” Gerard murmurs and places a small kiss near Frank’s right nipple, then looks back up again. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you.” 

Frank’s chest stops moving for a second, almost as if he was about to choke on Gerard’s words. Then he exhales deeply and he bites his lip before he gives a lop-sided smile and replies, “I really love you too.”

***

Of course, that’s not the only time they make love (Gerard would never call it fucking ever again). But it’s not their main focus – they still spend every day together talking and enjoying it, cherishing it; they save the sexy times for nights.

They move to spending nights together as well. It’s either Gerard spending the night in Frank’s room, or it’s reversed. Obviously, it’s even harder for Brendon to contact Gerard (because he’s still too polite to ever interrupt them, even if they’re talking about economics in fucking China or something equally stupid). 

He, however, manages to catch him alone in his room about a week later. It doesn’t even surprise Gerard this time when he enters the room and Brendon’s standing there. 

Their conversation is about nothing, really, and Brendon is as cheerful as ever, but when Gerard tells him he has to leave because he’s supposed to meet Frank in the ‘great hall’ in ten minutes, Brendon’s face falls and he touches Gerard’s shoulder gently.

“Your time is running out, kiddo,” Brendon comments and kind of disappears in the air, leaving Gerard gasping and utterly confused.

***

“Has it ever occurred to you that English sounds like Elvish when you say something backwards?” Frank jokes a few days later, sprawled on Gerard’s bed.

Gerard raises and raises an eyebrow at him, as a silent “what? are you on something?” and holds himself up on his elbows. 

Frank grins at him and says something really quickly – something in a language Gerard can’t understand, no matter how hard he tries. After a few seconds, he realizes that Frank gave him an example and when he thinks back; yeah, it did kind of sound like Elvish. He giggles and twines his fingers with Frank’s.

“Try it,” Frank encourages him and pokes him in the shoulder with his free hand.

Gerard’s reluctant to make a fool out of himself, but he gives in eventually when Frank says it would make his day, and utters a few words backwards. It doesn’t even make sense, not even if he tried to say it right, and it sounds ridiculous. He blushes and covers his face with his hands, before Frank whistles to get Gerard’s attention back.

“Just so you know, you sound like you’re from the fucking Lord of the Rings,” he reassures him, which makes Gerard giggle like crazy. 

They spend the next hour and a half saying various things backwards, from, ‘The sun is going to fall down’ through, ‘My toes are green’ to, ‘Come here and kiss me’. 

That’s just how it is with them, Gerard thinks. Despite everything that awaits them, they’re kind of careless at the moment. All they need to breathe is to have each other near. When they’re together, they’re able to laugh and they’re able to forget about everything that happened and is about to happen in the near future. The alarm that goes off every time they’re apart silences when they kiss, and everything is fine and perfect. Frank is what Gerard had been looking for and he just knows it’s supposed to be like this. When they’re together, nothing can ever part them.

***

Their assignment is to write a short essay on what they like about afterlife and their stay here. Gerard doesn’t think much of it – he just takes the chance and pretty much fills the whole paper (both sides) with ramblings about Frank. It’s sharing a lot of personal stuff, but it feels appropriate anyway, because he knows he can trust Emilie.

After the lessons, he wants to rush out of the room and go wait for Frank. Emilie stops him, though, calling his name and asking him to stay for a moment.

Gerard’s hand falls off the doorknob as he turns around to face his Leader. His little heart speeds up; something in the air tells him that something’s going on. If it was nothing, she would simply leave him another note.

“My dear,” she coos and closes the gap between them, placing a hand on Gerard’s paralyzed shoulder. “Pete Wentz wants to see you today.”

He gets it almost immediately and every little detail connects. He freezes in his place. The worried expression on Emilie’s face and the way she purses her lips; what Brendon had said before… and he also recalls Pete’s sentence: _We shall talk again when it’s time for you to go._ Gerard gasps and momentarily loses his balance, feeling the ground move under his feet. 

“It’s here, isn’t it?” he murmurs, trying his very best not to panic. “He wants to send me back there. He wants me to forget.”

“I’m afraid so,” his Leader sighs and squeezes his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“There’s no way he’d let me stay here?” he whines desperately. Not once in his life had he wished for something so badly. He wants Emilie to reassure him… about something. He needs it so much that it takes over his body and it’s all he can feel right now; just the need to keep Frank in his memory echoes through him fiercely.

Emilie shakes her head and gives a small smile. “But you can still ask him, if it’ll make you feel better about everything.”

“Yeah, I will,” Gerard breathes out. Of course he will ask Pete, of course he will fight for them. What Frank had said a few weeks ago – that Gerard is too afraid to speak up for himself – is not true anymore. If he could talk to God and ask him for the permission to stay here forever, he fucking would. 

Thinking that, it’s a bit easier to call Brendon and let him lead Gerard to Pete’s office in silence. He saves all of his words for the conversation with the Headmaster. 

Pete Wentz’s office looks exactly the same as it did before. Even Pete Wentz, himself, looks exactly the same, wearing an azure blazer and eye-liner that really draws Gerard in.

“And so we meet again!” Pete states when Gerard enters the room. His gesture is wild and he looks almost thrilled to see Gerard. Gerard, on the other hand, is not thrilled at all.

He sits down on the chair without asking for permission and debates whether he should spit it out or be at least a bit polite and wait until the conversation heads in the right direction. Eventually, he decides for the latter and bows his head a bit, picking at the skin around his left thumb with the fingers of the right. 

“I guess you know why you’re here,” Pete suggests in a serious voice, as if there was no time for jokes or questions this time; as if he wanted to scare Gerard off with this attitude. 

“I just assumed that it’s got something to do with going back to Earth,” Gerard utters, letting his disgust out a bit.

“Yes,” Pete agrees and shoots Gerard a small, reassuring smile. “We’re here to set a date. Your course ends tomorrow – I’ve got your last essay here, I must admit it’s pretty impressive.” Pete holds up a paper on which Gerard recognizes his own scribbling. Fuck, he thought no one except Emilie would ever read that. It makes Gerard itchy to watch Pete flash his eyes over the text.

“If I’d known you would read this, I would have written something else,” Gerard admits, not quite sure if that’s supposed to be an excuse or if he’s just trying to stay calm.

“That’s the point,” Pete smiles crookedly and Gerard shivers. He never really pays attention to it, but the truth is that they watch their every step. Not to carelessly invade their privacy, no – just to see if they change and if they’re ready to go. Gerard has changed a lot in the past few weeks – that’s why he’s here now. “Go ahead, ask away,” Pete shoots calmly, and Gerard startles awake. Can they even read minds, holy shit? 

Anyway, Gerard knows this might be his only chance and therefore, he doesn’t even bother with feeling embarrassed. “Can we stay here? Me and Frank. Can we?”

“No,” Pete answers simply and puts Gerard’s essay down. Concern shows on his face all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, but it’s not possible. You’re too young, both of you.” 

“Can’t you make an exception?” Gerard whines and looks at Pete with pleading eyes.

“No,” Pete says again, “That’s not how the world works. We can’t afford that. As I said, I’m deeply sorry for both of you, but it must be this way.”

“But I won’t remember him! And he won’t remember me!”

Pete purses his lips and looks away for a moment – but Gerard knows. He knows Pete won’t change his mind, no matter what, because he really can’t. This indeed is not the right place for questions. For a brief second, it all makes Gerard want to question the meaning of everything; if it’s even worth it. Soon enough, though, he realizes he would do it again. If he got the chance, he would die for every second he could spend with Frank. Of course it’s worth it. He knew this would happen from the very beginning, and he doesn’t regret a single second of it.

“I can tell that the heart will take something from this,” Pete tries to comfort him and Gerard fakes a sarcastic smile, trying not to punch Pete in the face for saying such bullshit.

“When am I leaving, then?” Gerard mumbles and hypnotizes his hands as if not to look directly at Pete for the life of him. 

“Saturday night,” Pete responds quickly, because he can finally give Gerard an answer; it’s not the answer Gerard wants to hear, though. After Pete’s words, everything in Gerard’s body squeezes and yells – _That’s too soon! No! That’s not enough time for us!_

***

Gerard really tries to pull his shit together before he meets Frank, and he even manages to. But when he sees Frank’s panicked face, his façade falls off right away and breaks into tiny, shattered pieces on the ground. Frank obviously knows; that’s what Gerard assumes, that’s what he expects Frank to say.

But Frank, actually, just swallows and drops his gaze to the ground. “I talked to Pete today,” he mutters and Gerard’s stomach drops down, probably to his knees. 

“Me too,” he admits quietly and Frank looks up immediately, frowning. It’s not really the angry kind of frowning; he’s just sad, disappointed. And Gerard… Gerard just realizes he’s not ready to deal with this situation. He knew it would come eventually, but this is too soon. They’re still in the phase where they just want to hold each other close to their bodies, and the simple thought of letting go is terrifying and starts to break his heart in two. 

“When?” Frank asks, calmly. It’s like they’re standing in an emptied battlefield; Gerard on one side of the room, Frank on the other, staring blankly at each other’s face in search of emotions. Gerard is still in shock; he can’t properly form sentences. And Frank, to be honest, looks the same. ‘The silence before a storm’ has always been only a phenomenon to them, but they know what it means now. 

“Saturday night,” Gerard breathes out and finally makes the first move, closing the gap between them. 

Slowly, without hurry or fury, Frank falls into Gerard’s arms and melts into him like a flower in need of light. Gerard touches his shoulder blades, sliding his hands down Frank’s back. 

“At least we’re leaving on the same night,” Frank mumbles into Gerard’s t-shirt and brushes his face against it. “I wouldn’t be able to stay here for a minute… without you.”

***

Saying goodbye to Brendon is – surprisingly – more difficult than Gerard thought it would be. Brendon reveals his other, rather emotional side, and Gerard doesn’t know what to do with that. Lots of hugging – which is quite uncomfortable due to the natural coldness of Brendon’s skin – doesn’t seem to do it for him.

“Hey, dude, you’ll get another suicidal psycho in a few days, I’m sure about that,” Gerard jokes when Brendon finally realizes what personal space means and takes a step back. He still looks like he wants to rush back and hug Gerard again, but he holds it together for now.

“Uh, kiddo,” he giggles and fixes his dorky glasses (Gerard is pretty sure he’s wearing them for the first time and considering the frame is blue, it was probably Pete’s idea) with his middle finger. “You still don’t get it, do you? You’re still too young.”

Gerard laughs like he knows he’s too young, although it’s slowly getting on his nerves when someone comments on his soul’s age. “I don’t get what?”

“You still don’t see that you’re quite special,” Brendon explains and grins almost sadly. “Anyway. You won’t remember me, which is a shame, but what can I do, right? I still want to tell you I enjoyed being your guide even though you can be really annoying, rude and careless. But that is also admirable, you know.” 

“Uh, thank you, I guess?” Gerard smiles and blushes a little when Brendon hugs him for the last time. “I couldn’t ask for a better guide, Bren.” 

“Now you’re just lying,” Brendon argues, but it’s all kind of… loving. It’s Gerard’s last night here, he’s just about to meet Frank and cuddle up in bed with him, but he doesn’t want to rush this. The last hug, the last word, the last everything when it comes to Brendon. It hurts and stings when he realizes they won’t ever talk again and Brendon will never show up in his room unexpectedly. This is pretty much the end of the end. 

Brendon disappears with a smile on his lips, but Gerard actually has to fight tears. He sighs and runs his fingers through his washed, black hair. He looks around his room, stopping at the painting for a second with his eyes. Maybe it’s the little, harmless rebel in his heart, but after a moment of thinking, he says out loud, “I never liked that painting. It’s too… _blue.”_

Nothing happens at first, but then Pete’s voice echoes through the room just seconds later, “I heard you, idiot. Go away before I’m there to slap you.”

It cheers Gerard up a little bit, and he actually leaves the room laughing. On his way to Frank’s room, though, everything eventually comes back to him. 

They have a deal. They have a deal that they won’t discuss leaving again, but something in him tells Gerard that it will happen anyway. He just hopes they’ll skip the sad stuff; feeling it is really enough, he doesn’t need to talk about it. A part of their deal is that they won’t have sex; if it happens, it will be spontaneous and not planned. It wouldn’t be nice if it was planned. 

They greet with a kiss, almost as if nothing was wrong. 

“Glad you’re here,” Frank murmurs tiredly as he runs his fingers through Gerard’s hair.

Gerard leans in to the touch, closing his eyes for a bit. “Glad I’m here,” he responds with a small smile and catches Frank’s hips, searching for his lips. They kiss again, this time deeper and more intimate. Gerard catches the back of Frank’s neck in his palm, making Frank tilt his head back a bit. Frank clutches Gerard’s shirt, squeezing it in his fingers. 

“You’re a tease,” Frank groans when Gerard pulls away. He does so only to look down at Frank’s belt, though, and consider their situation. 

“Would it be teasing if I asked you if you wanted a handjob?” Gerard replies with an innocent blush forming on his face. He even adds a little, shyly crooked smile and looks up at Frank playfully. 

“It would be teasing if you didn’t do it in the end,” Frank answers breathlessly and squeezes the fabric of Gerard’s t-shirt even more, as if he couldn’t wait for Gerard’s next move.

“And I wouldn’t talk about it if I didn’t want to do it.” With that, he slips his fingers over the hem of Frank’s pants, touching his skin and tracing his fingers over it. Frank sighs and rests his head against Gerard’s shoulder, obviously trying his best not to get rid of his pants on his own. 

This is their last night, but it’s going to be long.

***

Never mind the deal, Gerard thinks as the sweat on his body dries off slowly and Frank’s naked body is pressed close to his. Of course they couldn’t resist it; it was their last chance, after all. And it feels amazing, even as the afterglow starts to disappear and only their raw feelings remain.

Eventually, they settle down for a conversation. Frank is ruffling Gerard’s hair and it’s obviously a slow process, because he’s spent the past half an hour doing that and he doesn’t seem like he’ll be done any time soon. 

“Tell me something about your life,” Gerard suggests, even though he knows it’s really stupid. It’s needless information; it won’t mean anything in a few hours. They don’t even know how much time they have left; their Leaders could take their souls any moment now, no one says they have to wait till they’re asleep. Maybe they’ll cut Frank off mid-sentence and that would be it. But still. But still; Gerard can’t help it. He wants to know everything about Frank, even if it’s only for a couple of minutes.

“Like what?” Frank breathes out and places a kiss on Gerard’s naked shoulder, which sends shivers down Gerard’s spine and brings up goose bumps. 

“Like, what was your dream? What did you want to become?”

“Um,” Frank purses his lips and falls silent for a second, before he laughs – like his dream is utterly stupid – and admits, “I actually wanted to be in a band. I could play guitar and I’d say I was quite good at it. I’m not even being narcissistic here.”

“Sure you’re not,” Gerard laughs and twines his fingers with Frank’s. He’d expect Frank’s fingertips to be rough from playing, from dancing with the strings, but they’re not. Maybe they healed just like Gerard’s scars. 

“What about your dream? What was it?” Frank asks, curiosity reflecting on his face.

Gerard bows his head, trying to avoid Frank’s look. What did he want to become? He wanted to become nothing. He wanted to become a forgettable part of darkness; and he also achieved that. But here, somewhere in between… was this really his dream? Of course it wasn’t. If he digs real deep into his memories – not that deep, actually, it’s always been on his mind, but it was hiding silently and waiting for its time – he can find the real answer. 

“I wanted to draw,” Gerard admits and closes his eyes. If he’s not mistaken, he didn’t even share this idea with Mikey, and Mikey used to be his only friend. Frank is so much more. “Comics, or just art. Yeah, I wanted to be an artist. But I think that even if I didn’t kill myself, it would never happen. It’s true, I’m too young.”

Frank hums in agreement, but doesn’t say anything to it. They both know they failed their dreams and therefore also themselves; but they’re at peace with everything right now. With everything except leaving and forgetting each other. 

“I hope you get to live your dream,” Frank utters after a while and Gerard freezes under Frank’s warm hands. “I hope you’re happy in your next life, I really do.”

“I’m happy right now,” Gerard responds within seconds, because it’s the only thing he could ever say to that. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to find out if he’s going to be happy or if he’s going to be miserable again. He doesn’t care about living; he only cares about Frank. Frank is the only thing he ever did right. The only thing he will ever do right. “Do you think we’ll meet?”

“Even if we did, we wouldn’t know… We would have no idea how much we loved each other.”

“I don’t care,” Gerard acclaims and cups Frank’s face in his hands, making him look up at him. “I really don’t, you know? Pete told me that my heart will take something from this. And I think… I think my heart will remember that there is someone out there that makes me complete. It will remember how it feels when you’re around. It will remember every emotion you ever brought me. My heart will remember everything from this, it just… it just won’t be able to transform it into real memories.” 

“Gerard-“

“I don’t care. I will remember you, in a way. And when I meet you again, I’ll just know that I’m supposed to hold on to you. And I will never let you go.”

Frank’s tearing up. He’s biting down on his lip in a desperate attempt to stop the tears, but he can’t. Gerard didn’t want this; all he wants is to just be reassured that he won’t forget completely. 

Frank swallows, in the end, and whispers, “My heart will remember everything about you, too.”

In that moment, it sort of becomes official. Leaving and disappearing doesn’t mean a thing anymore. Gerard can let go with this; knowing that he will, after all, remember everything. He truly believes it. He never thought of this until this very second, but now that they said it out loud, he believes it with every single inch of his body, with every single vein carrying his blood, with every single cell rotting in his brain. It’s easy and it’s painful and it makes his dead heart beat faster, but it’s his only hope. It’s the only thing he can cling to; that and Frank. 

Their Leaders aren’t merciless, as they find out later. They let them have almost the whole night and they let them talk – even though it hurts to know more about each other.

It’s almost dawn when they finally fall asleep. It’s such a shame they can’t see their silver, glittering souls rise up from their chest. They’d see it melt into each other, creating one new soul. It’s a long process, it takes minutes while they’re lying lifelessly there – but in the end, the soul is complete.

And then it breaks in two parts with a low thud and these parts peacefully disappear, heading back to Earth.

  
**Epilogue**  


Gerard’s walking down the hall heading to his Art History class and he frowns more and more with every step he takes. “You can’t be fucking serious right now!” he shouts almost furiously, obviously quite lost in the emotion.

That’s probably why he runs straight into a stranger. He can’t hear another apology Mikey is trying to say, because his phone is sent flying through the air in god-knows-what direction. His breath gets kicked out of his lungs, squeezed awfully in there, and he hisses; freaking when he hears a whistle come out. He might just not inhale ever again, or that’s at least how it feels. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry!” the stranger acclaims loudly and even though he’s the one who’d been brought literally down to his knees by the collision, he rushes to get Gerard’s phone. When he hands it over to him with a crimson blush on his face, the screen is pitch black. “I’m so, so sorry,” he repeats apologetically, almost whining.

“It was my fault, really,” Gerard utters and stuffs the phone back into his pocket with a sigh. He can finally breathe again. Fuck, he was just about to kill Mikey using just telepathy. He is so pissed off that it would have been possible. “I was too busy arguing with my stupid little brother and I didn’t pay attention to where I was going.”

“Oh,” the stranger giggles and stuffs his hands into his pockets, looking up at Gerard from behind the curtain of his dark hair. “What were you arguing about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Gerard waves his hand, not quite sure why he’s talking to a stranger anyway, and murmurs, “It’s kinda silly, really. He spilled his coffee all over my Sandman issue,” he answers and takes a step back, so he wouldn’t stand in the middle of the hall. He is somewhat thrilled to see the stranger copy him and join him. 

“I completely get that, though. I’d kill anyone who tried to touch my Sandman issues,” he laughs nervously and Gerard’s eyes involuntarily widen.

If he’s completely, utterly honest with himself… he’s never actually met a guy who loved Sandman and was hot at the same time. That’s like, two things out of five that figure on his “The perfect boy to date” list. Gerard can’t help but wonder how it’s possible that they’ve never met before. His face looks familiar, though; maybe he’s seen him around, but they’ve never actually talked. 

“What issue did he ruin?”

“Preludes and Nocturnes,” Gerard mumbles and feels it sting again; it was the very first issue of Sandman he ever bought, and now it was ruined. He might be only nineteen, but he can still know how to value such things. He decides Mikey gets punched for this, no matter how much he apologizes.

“I love that one!” the stranger says with excitement, but then they both fall silent. It’s ridiculous, because they’re complete strangers and they just met and they shouldn’t even be talking – or trying to talk. Something, however, stops Gerard from walking away; almost as if something was holding him there. And the stranger seems reluctant to leave as well. “Hey, I can lend it to you, if you want,” he says all of a sudden and looks directly at Gerard’s face with anticipation showing off on his own. 

And that’s just silly. Because it’s not like Gerard can’t go and buy the issue; it’s available in basically every comic shop in Jersey and it’s not expensive either. That’s why he doesn’t know why he opens his mouth and says, “That would be great, I’d love that!”

They smile at each other and the stranger reaches out his hand. “I’m Frank, by the way,” he introduces himself and Gerard accepts Frank’s hand willingly.

“I’m Gerard,” he smiles back and he can’t help but shiver when they touch and shake hands. Electricity runs through his body, from the roots of his hair down to his toes, and he seriously wants to ask if they ever met before, because Frank – and not just his face - feels strangely familiar. But that’s not possible, of course. Their hands part and they simply start walking, suddenly heading in the same direction – even though Gerard’s pretty sure Frank was originally walking in a different way.

In the end, Mikey will probably get a hug and not a punch, because however weird that is for slightly anti-social Gerard, he kinda likes Frank right away.

**The End.**


End file.
